


your crimes are quiet, my love

by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Job, Crime & Murder, Crime Scenes, Criminal Mind vibes, Description of Injuries, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Gun Violence, Hand Job, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Knife Violence, M/M, MI5 agent Liam, MI5 agent Zayn, Miscommunication, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pageant Coach Louis, Riddles and Puzzles, Rimming, Serial Killer, Smut, Technical Analyst Niall, Undercover Missions, Very affectionate friends, Zayn & Liam are partners, and a bunch of original characters, based on Miss Congeniality, confessions of feelings, contestant harry, male beauty pageant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 97,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24486799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_writes/pseuds/lightswoodmagic
Summary: “It’s lucky you’re here actually, Malik. They figured out the riddle from the church.” Anthony shuffled papers on his desk as Zayn snapped to attention. “The next victim is a contestant of the upcoming Mr. UK pageant. It’s a great breakthrough, but we have a slight problem.”Zayn looked to Liam for answers, but it was obvious this was the first he’d heard of it too. “Which is?”“We’re going to need someone to go undercover, and it’s going to be you.”Liam’s hand fell to the back of Zayn’s chair with a thump.A darker Miss Congeniality AU that follows Zayn and Liam, MI5 agents, partners since training and best friends, as they race to stop a serial killer. When Liam makes a tactical call that backfires and almost gets Zayn killed during a raid, he refuses to let Zayn be the one to put himself at risk when all signs point to an upcoming pageant for the serial killer’s next target. While everyone around them seems to be hiding something and they're forced further apart, Liam and Zayn need to find the person responsible, protect each other with everything they have, and figure out why everything suddenly feels different between them.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne & Harry Styles, Niall Horan/Shawn Mendes, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 56
Kudos: 183
Collections: One Direction Big Bang Round 3





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. 
> 
> This fic was an absolute experience for me. The idea came when I was rewatching Miss Congeniality months ago, and I suddenly stopped and stared at my boyfriend and said 'do you know what this would be great for?' He just sighed and said 'you can't make everything into a fic' OR CAN I? There were many sleepless nights and long conversations, but here we are! Finally done.  
> It feels like such an accomplishment to have written this, something so far outside of my comfort zone. I absolutely fell in love with these characters as I was writing them, and to give them up was difficult. 
> 
> As this fic is crime based, please understand there is violence, including gun and knife, and crime scenes. I've taken some liberties with what I imagine is NOT MI5 protocol, or how any of it actually works. I doubt they would let Zayn and Liam wander around freely covered in tattoos and a nose stud, but I can pretend they do. Some of my original characters are based on people I know and love, just for fun. 
> 
> This fic also has alternating points of view, switching between Zayn and Liam at the start of each chapter. 
> 
> I have a lot of thank you's!
> 
> Firstly, thank you to the most amazing beta in the world, [Mia](https://so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed.tumblr.com/). I am endlessly grateful to you for your support, enthusiasm, brainstorming, jokes, and love. You have made me an infinitely better writer, and I'm so lucky that I get to have you in my life. There is no way I would've written this fic without you. Thank you so much for everything you do. I love you 3001. 
> 
> To [Grace](https://ltwalls2020.tumblr.com/), one of my favourite people in the world who always makes the most incredible moodboards for me. I love you, thank you so much for stepping in for me and creating something so beautiful. 
> 
> To my amazing group chats, especially my BB chat. You all showered me in love and support when I had multiple breakdowns, read sections of my fic that I wasn't sure about, and gave me encouragement to go on. I am so grateful, and I love you all. 
> 
> To the mods of Big Bang, thank you so much for the time and effort and organisation you put in. I'm so glad I got to write something for it, and I appreciate every bit of help you gave me along the way. 
> 
> And lastly, to the first person who made me feel excited enough to write this every time they saw a snippet until I was excited enough myself to write it as my Big Bang fic. Thank you [Maggie](https://disgruntledkittenface.tumblr.com/), for giving me the confidence to even do that at all. 
> 
> I'm so proud of this.  
> I hope you all enjoy!  
> xx

[](https://imgur.com/DiOMPhh)

There was always beauty here; the glint of the metal, the smoothness of the movement, the red rivers of salvation that ran perfectly, vindicating and soothing. 

A sliver of light sliced through the room, cutting through the dust and ash that’d settled heavily in the air. It wasn’t enough to reach the metal, wasn’t long enough to hit the surface and send out glaring shots of brightness in the quiet darkness. It was simply a reminder that the coverings on the window needed to be redone. Too much work had gone into everything for it to be ruined by a stranger walking past, someone looking in to see the work before it was _ready_.

The sound of rustling drew attention, jerky movements that were almost drowned out by cries of fear and whimpers of desperation, the sounds weaving together to create something beautiful and fleeting. It was like music, a symphony that rose and fell, crescendos of redemption and trills of hope that sent pulses of happiness.

It was one of the best parts, the noise; a reminder that everything that was happening was affecting the very air in the room, settling against skin and vibrating souls with the need to heal, to help; to _fix_ in a way that only death could. 

The sound was almost getting too loud though, increasing the possibility of someone interrupting, so with a quick search and a flick of a wrist, there was a strip of material pushed gently between bitten lips. They were chapped, the rough fabric a contrast to the soft sounds, as muffled as they were now, and it was catching on the slight stubble littering the man’s top lip.

Breathtaking.

It matched the fabric tied around the man’s wrists and ankles, bound together to accept his fate. There was a hum of music too, the lilt hypnotic as the tune carried through a closed mouth. 

The warehouse smelled strongly of metal, but not just from the beams and doors, not just the rust and old desks. It was the refreshing, overwhelming scent of fresh blood, the musk of the body, sweat always ripe here, combining to create a perfume so brilliant that it could be bottled and sold. 

The knife was almost an extension of the body, the blade exciting as it created drops of blood that ran freely, liberated from the vessel that held them to cleanse the sins and help the cause. 

Clothes were still in the way, but not for long, the tip of the knife sharp enough to tear them apart, gentle hands removing them so they fluttered to the floor.

The knife ran gently down tanned skin now, soft with tiny hairs that swayed under the weight of the blade, more muffled noise escaping from under the gag, more squirming, and widened eyes. 

Another favourite part, how easily the eyes portrayed terror, the way they shifted when they accepted defeat, the beauty in the crinkles to the sides when they were squeezed shut to block out the pain. 

A pointless act when the pain would bring salvation, when it was worth the hurt to _fix it_. They _deserved_ to hurt. They’d done wrong, they’d taken what wasn’t _theirs._

It was easy to get caught up in the act, difficult to slow down enough to enjoy it. There was justice in every slice, revenge in every red splatter that hit the concrete, redemption in every harsh movement and swift downward motion of a hand, fingers wrapped around a handle. 

Everything was beautiful here; the sounds, the smells, the sight, but it was the final blow that settled everything in the soul. 

One more powerful shift, an arm drawing back as the other hand stroked gently over the bound man’s face. One heavy stab, a rough noise, a gargle and a twist, and the light vanished. 

His eyes dimmed, his mouth slack, his skin still warm as blood flowed from his neck, sticky and life ending and perfect. 

One more down.

More work to be done. 

It was only the beginning. 


	2. I

The small café was crowded, the scent of coffee heavy in the air, and Zayn took a grateful breath the second that he stepped in. Even the smell seemed to perk him up slightly, like his body knew how close it was to its only salvation in the morning, but it was still not enough so that he was happy to be here, surrounded by arseholes who thought they need to be served first as if _everyone_ else had somehow already _had_ their coffee at 7am.

Everything was loud, people chatting to the staff or their colleagues, the _clink_ of ceramic hitting ceramic, the overwhelming _hiss_ of the coffee machine that seemed to taunt everyone as Zayn slipped into the line. It was almost back near the door, the slight chill more or less constant due to the stream of people moving in and out. Zayn shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and pulled it tighter around his body, looking around the bright room, the wooden fixtures and beams blending with the greenery everywhere, to calm him slightly as he shuffled forward. His gaze fell on a middle-aged man sitting at a table, coffee in front of him, and holding a newspaper high enough that Zayn could see the front page.

_ Rose Red Murders: Is There A Serial Killer In London? _

Zayn groaned, pulling out his phone and sending a text as the line moved forward again.

_Check out The Telegraph today. They’ve given it a name, fuck._

He’d just slid his phone back into his pocket when he was elbowed in the side, and a man in a suit stepped directly in front of him. He froze, eyebrows raising slightly as a woman waiting for her coffee shared an incredulous look with him. 

The man was in a sharp, expensive suit, tapping his foot impatiently as he tapped at his mobile, thumbs moving just as impatiently across the screen. Entitled, obviously. Apparently in a hurry, or just an arsehole deciding to assert his dominance by treating strangers like dirt. 

Either way, Zayn really wasn’t in the mood. He tapped the man on the shoulder.

“Excuse me mate, but I think you’ll find that the line starts back there, so- .” Then there was a hand in his face stopping him mid-sentence, and Zayn jolted back slightly.

“I think you’ll find I don’t have time to wait.” He looked Zayn up and down, his nose wrinkling at the tattoos that sat on his hands. “I’m sure the teenager who tells you how to do your minimum wage job can wait.”

Now that he’d turned, it was easier to study him. His shoes were expensive too, but worn, scratches along the side and a scuffed toe that the man had attempted to hide with shoe polish. His suit bore the same fate, loose threads and worn at the elbows, and the fit was off, as though the man’s body had changed and there’d been no hope for a replacement. His nails were bitten down to the quick; could just be a sign of anxiety, but Zayn could see the lawyer’s letterhead sticking out of the top of the man’s leather bag, and the tan line of a wedding band on his left hand.

A recent divorce, then.

Zayn sighed, rolling his eyes and squaring his shoulders. It was much too early in the morning for this. He’d woken up to his cat sitting almost directly on his face, the hot water in his building hadn’t been working, and now he had to get eight coffees before going to work on a case where men were getting sliced open. He was exhausted, and obviously hadn’t had his coffee yet; he was one moment away from forcing the stranger back outside.

He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, keeping his voice low. “Listen mate, there’s dozens of people here needing exactly what you do. Just get to the back of the line.”

The speed at which the man’s face turned scarlet would’ve been impressive if Zayn hadn’t already managed to find himself in a _mood_. His cheeks were puffed as he pushed out an angry breath, his hands clenching at his sides, and Zayn just raised his eyebrow higher. 

“Fuck off.” The man sneered once more, and Zayn noticed that the cafe was almost deathly quiet, the only sounds now the tinkering of the coffee machine. 

Zayn realised too late that someone was stepping forward to try and help, and the second that the arsehole had grabbed onto the woman’s wrist, Zayn had his ID in his hand and straight in the man’s line of view.

“Let her go, and leave.” Zayn was speaking quietly as the man looked at his ID, eyes wider by the second, but there was no doubt in the quiet space that everyone could still hear. 

The man looked like he was going to stand his ground, push back and make a scene even with Zayn’s ID right in his face, but then he glanced around before scoffing, and turned to walk right back out the door. 

The difference in the room was almost tangible, like the entire crowd exhaled at the same time. Slowly, the volume picked back up and Zayn stepped forward in line, shoving his ID back in his pocket. 

Zayn had always hated using his badge or his job for any kind of superiority, hated the way people treated him differently or walked on eggshells around him after they found out what he did for a living. It didn’t help that there was a lot that he wasn’t able to talk about, that his job required some level of secrecy; it wasn’t that Zayn was a _spy_ , but he was high enough in the ranks of MI5 that he couldn’t just tell everybody about his day to day.

It was helpful in situations like this though, albeit slight overkill, even though it left an uncomfortable itch under his skin. It wasn’t until the woman he’d helped insisted on buying all of his coffees that he felt himself settle, because it was always reassuring to know that he’d actually _helped_ someone, whether it was a five year old girl who’d been kidnapped or a stranger in a coffee shop. He’d tried to refuse; eight coffees were too many when he’d simply done what anyone should’ve done, but when he left 15 minutes later, he had free coffees and free scones from the man behind the counter, as well as a text back.

**Yeah Chewy just showed me. Wish we could’ve taken over sooner.**

Zayn had set the coffees on the roof of the car as he read the text, bags of scones hanging between his teeth as he tried to wrangle his keys from his pocket now. He somehow managed to get back in his car without dropping anything, placing the coffee trays and bag carefully on the passenger seat before he replied to Liam, lip caught between his teeth.

_Too hard to stop it once it’s out. Got the coffees, see you in a few x_

He let himself sit for a moment, didn’t want to start the car until Liam had responded as he knew he would. It was less than a minute before he got a reply.

**Alright, see you soooooooon x**

Zayn grinned at his phone and pocketed it, starting the car and turning on the wipers as it started to drizzle. It was oddly quiet on the roads for a Tuesday morning, even though it was right in the middle of rush hour, and Zayn was pulling into the staff parking under Thames House only a couple of minutes later. It was a slight struggle to get into the lift with everything in his hands, and even bigger struggle to press the button for the third floor, but he managed, and the second the doors opened, he was following the hall down to a small room, kicking at it so it opened wider. Niall’s office always seemed brighter than those around him, filled with pictures and small plants, and Zayn grinned at him when the door smacked against the wall and made him jolt.

“Ay, morning Malik! Need a hand?” Niall was already standing before he finished talking, taking one of the trays from Zayn and looking for his coffee, cheering quietly when he found it. “Thanks mate, been dying this morning.” He took a long swig, and Zayn winced at the thought of how hot it would still be. “I was just about to head up, but you can just pass on the message. I found some more info last night.”

Zayn had been rummaging through the bag of scones to hand an apple and cinnamon one to Niall, but he perked up at the news. “Anything helpful?”

Niall was already chewing when he answered, sitting back down at his desk and swinging around to his computer, fingers moving quickly over the keyboard as Zayn stood behind him. He’d always been impressed by everything Niall could do, how quickly he could read screens and how his fingers seemed almost blurred as he typed, even though it was part of the reason he was so brilliant at his job.

It’d been seven years since he’d met Niall, on his first case when Zayn had been nothing but bright eyed and eager. They’d been dealing with a string of hackings, bank accounts of high profile, rich men being almost drained, and no trace of anything being left behind. It’d taken them weeks to even get a lead, weeks of dead ends and red herrings until they finally found Niall, casually sitting in his lounge room in front of his computer. He’d greeted them with a smile and wave, and Zayn had been too taken aback to respond properly. The criminals always _ran_ , always tried to deny they’d done anything wrong, but Niall had simply stood up with his hands held in front of him and let Zayn take him in.

It wasn’t until later, when he was being interviewed, that they found out Niall had given all the money to charity, that all the men he’d stolen from had committed crimes of fraud and corruption. It’d let them put away 12 men that day, and Niall had been offered a job a mere hour later and worked his way up in the department until he was second in charge.

They’d been mates ever since, and Zayn loved telling anyone who would listen (and anyone that was allowed) that Niall had been hired based on a classic movie cliché.

“So,” Niall started, mumbling around his coffee cup, “it’s not really all that helpful. The mobile phone left at the last scene was exactly like the other two.” Niall brought up a playlist on his computer, and Zayn leant over his shoulder to look. “I managed to get the music off it that was playing. Weird playlist, no connections that I can find. Totally different artists and genres. Burner phone, just like the others.”

Zayn sighed and closed his eyes. “Absolutely not helpful, Horan.” A gentle slap to his cheek stung, and he pouted, knocking Niall’s hand away.

“I told you it wasn’t,” Niall scolded, throwing his cup in the bin under his desk. “But I did track where the phones were bought, and they were all at different small stores with no real security footage to go on.”

“Great,” Zayn groaned, straightening up to stretch his back. He clapped Niall on the shoulder and moved towards the door, grabbing the coffees and scones on the way. “Thanks mate, I’ll see you at lunch.”

Niall waved at him as he left. “Your partner’s been looking for you, so you better hurry up.”

“I was just texting him!” Zayn called over his shoulder, trying to close the door behind him with his foot until Niall just told him to bugger off and leave it.

He managed to make it up to the floor where his office was with no drama, dropping off a couple of coffees along the way to some of his colleagues. He hadn’t even managed to drink any of his own yet, so as soon as he made it to his shared office, he plopped down on the front of his desk and took a long swig.

And immediately burnt his tongue. He yelped, realising too late that he was drinking Liam’s long black, the boiling water keeping hot in the cup. He expected to hear a low chuckle from his partner’s desk, but nothing came. He was alone in their office, the only sign that someone else had been here the crime scene photos scattered on the desk opposite his. They weren’t gruesome; far from it, which was almost part of the problem. The crime scene was always pristine, organised and designed meticulously, no blood or sign of a struggle. A single red rose sat delicately on top of the man’s legs where he was leaning against a lamp post, just like the others, and they’d had no success in finding the murder scene yet; any of them. The unsub was clean, careful, and incredibly dangerous, and Zayn knew the damage that was hiding under the victim’s clothes without needing to see it again.

He dumped his bag under his desk and grabbed the last tray of coffees, hooked the bag of scones around his pinkie, and wandered down to the conference room. It didn’t matter how long Zayn had been doing this, or how much shit he’d seen. It was enough to keep him up at night sometimes, the way the terrors came and went, drifting through his mind just as easily as the lives of all the victims he’d seen had left the Earth.

This was still something he’d dealt with very rarely, riddles and taunts and an almost _invitation_ to catch the unsub that didn’t really make sense. The only conclusion they’d been able to come to yesterday was that they thought themselves too smart to be caught, that it was easy to manipulate law enforcement to do whatever they pleased. While it might have been true for the policeman that’d had the case as recently as two days ago, Zayn and the rest of his team were trained for this type of crime, trained to properly handle the devastating amount of people who killed for fun. It’d been a while since they’d had a case like this at all though, a serial killer so dangerous that the local law enforcement had almost thrown the files at them in their haste to get rid of the case.

Zayn sipped his coffee as he walked into the room, wincing at the added burn on his tongue. His boss Anthony, or Chewy as he was more well known, was there, stern face that broke into a wide grin when Zayn waved at him. He’d earned the nickname decades ago in training when he’d accidentally been shot and the sound he’d made had been inhumane, and it’d stuck ever since. Almost everyone else in their team, including Niall’s boyfriend Shawn, were standing with him, all of them frowning down at a piece of paper on the table. There was only one person missing, and -

“You do that every morning, burn yourself. Can’t believe you haven’t learnt by now.”

Zayn’s gaze snapped to the man sitting at the table in the middle, a soft smile already on his face as he turned to face his best friend and partner of seven years. Liam’s face was amused, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he pushed his glasses up his nose, his round tortoise shell pair today. His hair was getting long, almost longer than Zayn had ever seen it, and when he handed him his coffee, Liam shot him a brilliant smile.

It was always calming to see Liam, reassuring and _warm_ somehow, comforting and relaxing. He’d always been that way for Zayn, even when he’d first met him back when they were in training together, two teenagers with no idea what they were really in for. They’d roomed together, thrown into a situation that was as terrifying as it was fun, and they’d instantly clicked, best friends somehow from the moment they’d shaken hands.

By the time their training had been done, Zayn had trusted Liam with his life; still did, more than anyone he’d ever met, anyone he ever thought he would meet. They’d been called ‘diamonds in the rough’, unique and valuable not just for their intellect and skills, but for a chemistry and connection so strong that they’d been partners ever since, separated only once for four months when Zayn had needed to go undercover. Liam had helped Zayn become who he was, had helped him discover and celebrate his strengths, and comfort him and work on his weaknesses, and had been there for everything along the way.

“You’d think so, but here we are,” Zayn shot back, grabbing a chair and pulling it around next to Liam’s. “What are you looking at?”

“Crime scene photos.” Liam’s hand came up to run absentmindedly through Zayn’s hair, and he hummed at the touch. “Just wanted to see if I had a new perspective this morning.”

They’d always been affectionate, maybe too much, had gotten teased about it for years until people had just accepted that it was who they were, that there was nothing sexual or romantic about it. It hadn’t stopped the rumours, but Zayn had never let it bother him, took it in his stride that people thought he’d be sleeping with someone as fit as his best mate.

Zayn’s eyes were closed as he let Liam pet him, sinking lower in his chair as he clutched his coffee to his chest. “And?”

A heavy sigh. “Nothing new. How was your morning?”

“It was fine.” He let himself get pulled back towards sleep for a moment, Liam’s fingers still gentle and lovely, until he remembered how his morning had actually been. “There was an arsehole at the coffee shop, but I sorted him out.”

A snort and a light tug that made Zayn huff. “I’m sure you did.”

Zayn hooked his foot around Liam’s ankle and shuffled his chair closer, squinting slightly at the photos when he realised, he’d left his glasses…somewhere. He managed to lose a pair of glasses once every few months, on cases or around his house somehow, and he hated wearing his contacts. He didn’t need them all the time, mainly for reading, but it was worse when he was tired. Anything touching his eyes made him cringe, and just as he was about to give up and go get his contacts, his glasses were being held right in front of his face. 

He went cross eyed as Liam put them gently on his face and pushed them up his nose. “Thanks babe,” Zayn sighed, blinking rapidly to clear his vision properly. He got a small grin in response before Anthony turned to address the room, and everyone found their seats. 

“Morning everyone, it’s been a big one already.” Anthony took the clicker from his pocket, and pulled up a copy of a letter on the projection screen; the same letter on the table. “We got sent another riddle today, although it went to the police station so the unsub mustn’t know that we have the case now. Our cryptologists are working on it at the moment, but it seems to have a similar pattern.” There was a click, and Zayn tried to look closer at the lines marked on the image now, circles around sections of the riddle. Kirby handed him the paper copy on the table instead as Anthony kept talking, and he shot her a grateful smile. “They think they’ll have it cracked soon, but in the meantime, Zayn,” all eyes snapped up to him and Anthony looked pleased, “they’re happy for you to have a look.”

Zayn nodded, running his eyes down the dark lettering smudged across the paper. It was beautiful writing as always, poetic and sinister, and Zayn let himself tune out as he tried to take in the words. There was something about a church, which seemed odd; there’d been no religious affiliation so far.

It was all like clockwork, murders two weeks apart, men abducted and held for less than 24 hours. While there was never any sign of sexual assault, there were signs of torture; cuts and slices along arms and legs, bruises and abrasions, and massive blood loss from what was always the final stab to the neck. There was never any DNA, and Zayn never expected there to be. 

The anger was always hidden though, the rage inflicted hidden under the clothes they were redressed in when they were put under street lamps. To anyone walking by, the men almost looked to be sleeping, and it always took a few hours for someone to realise that something seemed off. 

It was usually the rose that did it, blood red and brilliant against the dark suits, seemingly out of place and too perfect to be nestled even amongst a backdrop of boutique shops and expensive restaurants. 

Zayn felt Liam’s fingers back in his hair as he tried to concentrate, and it was easier to ground himself even as he stopped himself from shivering. Anthony didn’t even give them a passing glance. 

Frustration built back in Zayn’s body at the lack of leads they had, the lack of information they could use. The three men hadn’t had any connections that anyone had found yet, aside from the fact that they were all the same type; masculine, conventionally attractive, incredibly narcissistic according to reports. Their gym trips had been ruled out, no overlap there, and they had all had girlfriends or wives. They hadn’t found any proof of affairs, no drug use or gang connections, and Zayn was close to tearing his hair out. 

He was wrenched out of his thoughts by someone bursting into the room, and he startled, almost spilling his coffee all over the desk. 

“We cracked it. It’s tomorrow, at Southwark Cathedral. They’ll be there, and they’ll have someone with them.”

*****

Zayn was still pouting slightly, even though it was ridiculous. It wasn’t that he wasn’t pleased that the riddle had been solved, or that they at least knew enough to start getting a plan together, but.

He’d always loved puzzles, and he couldn’t help but sulk slightly that he hadn’t been able to help with this one at all. Liam kept looking up at him from the files, bemused smirk on his face, but Zayn was steadfastly ignoring him until Liam sighed, and Zayn heard a soft _thud_ as his head hit the desk.

“It doesn’t make any sense.” Liam’s voice was muffled, but they’d been talking about it for hours now, and the words were as clear as day to Zayn.

“I know,” Zayn frowned, pulling the riddle to him again to check for the fifth time, “but it all checks out, Li. The mentions of a playwright’s kin, the mentions of stages and the lines of salvation.” They were alone in the room now, the rest of the team trying to organise the logistics for tomorrow. Liam had shucked his suit jacket, sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and Zayn found himself staring at the tattoos that dotted his skin. “William Shakespeare’s brother is buried there, and the church kind of became a stage back in the day,” Zayn murmured, flicking through pictures of the space.

Liam shifted his head, resting his face on his folded arms and facing Zayn, a tiny smile on his face that made Zayn shift in his seat, awkward heat flooding out to his fingers. He frowned to himself and stretched them, wriggling each one until he felt normal again.

He was wary now as the smile settled firmer on Liam’s face. “What?”

“Nothing,” Liam grinned, “I just hope you don’t get too distracted when we’re in there tomorrow. Have to keep an eye on you to make sure you don’t wander off to explore.”

“You can always keep an eye on me,” Zayn teased back, warmth in his chest when Liam laughed, loud and surprised.

It was a common thing for them, this innocent flirting. There was never anything behind it, nothing serious, just playful banter that had almost gotten them in trouble several times at work. It should’ve been a red flag maybe, a warning that Zayn needed to ease up, but their team was used to it by now, and the delightful sounds and snickers he always managed to pull from Liam meant he’d always do it time and time again.

Liam sat up, leaning over Zayn and pressing against his side to look at the photos. “It’s beautiful, but it’s the odd thing out.”

“The church? It’s the _main thing_ , Liam. I don’t know if it can be the odd thing out when it’s kinda the _only_ part of the riddle.”

“It’s not the _only_ part,” Liam argued, and Zayn sat up properly to look at him.

“You’re right, though. It doesn’t fit the pattern, and the imagery is off. They’re too meticulous to break routine now, and there’s been no sign of any kind of breakdown in behaviour,” Zayn frowned, chewing on the lid of his pen, an awful habit he’d tried to break. “There hasn’t been any religious affiliation so far. Why now?”

“Maybe it’s about a meaning behind the church, rather than the actual religious aspect,” Liam was still searching through the files, but he seemed to grow more frustrated the longer he looked, “but with no suspects to even begin to think of, there’s nowhere else for us to start. I might get Niall to have a look at any major events that’ve happened there, see if he can’t link them back to someone.” He stood up and ruffled Zayn’s hair as he passed, promising to get him a cup of coffee on the way back.

The more that Zayn kept pouring over files and looking at crime scene photos, the more uneasy he got, the feeling settling in his stomach and making him nauseous. None of it made _sense_. The unsub had been so careful to cover their tracks before, so precise and dangerous that giving Zayn’s team a solid place to catch them now meant that the killer was likely to be taken into custody, which seemed like too obvious a trap. It seemed highly unlikely that they’d take a victim there, or even have a victim at all at the moment; the time frame was too quick, the turnaround time too little, and the lid of Zayn’s pen had almost been chewed away when Liam came back in almost an hour later, coffees in hand and Niall at his side.

He was back in his seat before Zayn could even blink, pulling the pen from Zayn’s hand gently with a soft tutting noise, uncurling his fingers from around the plastic.

“It’ll be fine, babe. We’ve got this.” And then he placed a smacking kiss on Zayn’s knuckles, and the retching noise Niall made had Zayn snorting, his head clearing and feeling lighter.

He let Liam hold his hand for a moment longer, his concerned gaze weighted and trained on Zayn’s face.

Zayn sighed and let their hands drop. “It just feels like a trap, Li. There’s no solid reason, and with only the two of us going in, it’s almost too easy for them. I don’t understand why he won’t send in someone else with us.”

Liam’s forehead crinkled as he moved closer, and Zayn couldn’t help the automatic sway of his body towards him. “I know. I feel a bit off about it too, but we’ll be alright. Chewy said something about not drawing attention to us, that the two of us could handle it on our own and that extra agents just meant more possibilities to fuck it up.” Liam was frowning now too, a thoughtful scrunch between his eyes. “I don’t really get it, though, but they’ll be outside, and we’ve got this. You got my back, I got yours, yeah? Always.”

It was a silly phrase they’d been saying since the beginning, not unique or overly interesting but still _theirs_ , and Zayn broke out into a grin.

“Yeah, always.” Zayn crinkled his nose, Liam grinned, and everything around him seemed to calm. “Did you find anything when you left me for an eternity?”

“Such a drama queen Malik, honestly. You’ll have me too, you know,” Niall jumped in as he typed, the screen lighting up at the front of the room. “The rest of the team will be right outside, but I’ll be your eyes and ears as always. As for the church itself, the only thing I could really find was that they held a fashion show in the nave that created a bit of an uproar, but there’s been nothing else that I could find.”

Zayn wrapped his hands around the mug of coffee Liam had bought him, noting that he’d wandered back past their office to grab his Batman one. “Hardly seems like something worth murdering over.”

“Hardly. Look, I’ll keep trying, but I’m not sure if anything’ll come up.” Niall looked apologetic, so Zayn smiled at him over the lip of his mug.

“Thanks mate.”

In the end, Zayn kept reading until his head started to throb, too many cups of coffee and too much time concentrating, and it wasn’t until Anthony came in to force them to go home that he realised it’d been hours, and was well past 7pm by now. He stumbled out of his seat and stretched, waving goodbye to Niall when Shawn came back and left the two of them alone. Zayn eyed the files sitting innocently on the table; surely no one would even know if he just took one home.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Liam wasn’t even looking at him, was standing over near the screen to turn it off for the night, and Zayn huffed at the thought that Liam had still _known_. “I wasn’t going to.”

When Liam turned around, Zayn let himself admire him, and the jolt of lust that shot through him took him by surprise. It’d been a while since he’d been with anyone, and he’d always been able to appreciate the way Liam looked; who wouldn’t? It was in the typical way that best friends sometimes looked at their other best friends though, the way they truly admired them. Friends thought friends were incredibly hot all the time, didn’t they? It was natural, he’d told himself, normal to think about sleeping with someone so _fucking_ attractive, someone he trusted and loved and knew would take care of him. It didn’t matter that it was Liam, with his fucking arms and his six pack and his -

No. Dangerous thoughts.

Zayn shook his head and conceded. “Fine, I was just going to take two.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

So, Zayn compromised on the way out, and only shoved one lot of files under his coat away from Liam’s prying eyes.

Simple.

*****

The floor was oddly quiet when Zayn stumbled off the lift the next morning, eyes tired and movements slow. He gripped the coffee cup harder as he took a long swig, wincing at the slight burn that just proved he hadn’t waited long enough. He’d gotten a black coffee this morning, needing the caffeine hit to be intense and the bitterness to zap his brain and make it more alert. There only seemed to be a few people scattered amongst the desks, the entire room feeling oddly still to Zayn until the coffee slowly made its way through his system and he remembered it was only six in the morning 

He shuffled across the carpet, stifling a yawn and trying to blink the sleep from his eyes. No matter how many times he’d gotten up this early, how many times he’d needed to jump on a last-minute flight or gear up for a raid, it was still a battle to wake up. It wasn’t that Zayn lacked the motivation to get out of bed; he _loved_ his job, no matter what time it was or where he was needed, but it didn’t seem to be enough to shake the last visages of sleep. It was something he’d assumed would get better with time; that his mind and body would reset at some point, but it’d never come, and it remained a constant that for the first hour of every day, Zayn couldn’t function properly.

Anthony was standing in the conference room at the end of the hall when Zayn rounded the corner, and Zayn could see that he was talking to Niall and Liam from the front of the room. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing at them as he swigged his coffee again, trying to brace himself for not only the intense conversation that was coming, but also the oddly peppy Irishman that was leaning back in his chair. Niall and Liam had always been morning people, laughing and eager eyed, ready for anything, and it was something Zayn was still too tired to deal with.

It’d been 1am when he’d gone to bed, and 3am before he’d actually fallen asleep, surrounded by the files and pages that he _definitely_ shouldn’t have hidden in his bag and taken home the night before. It was an awful habit he’d picked up right near the start of his career, even though the risk had been even greater back then. A rookie sneaking home confidential documents should have been a sure way to get him fired, but he was also careful enough, had flirted his way out of a few close calls. While he’d probably be able to keep his job this time, had been here long enough and solved enough cases to be well respected in a way that would just ensure a slap on the wrist, it was still a risk. The documents were safe in his bag again now though, tucked in between his notebook and snacks. No one needed to know.

Except that Liam always knew him too well, and the second that he stepped into the conference room, Zayn saw his eyes narrow slightly. He smiled at him, mouth turned up slightly at the edges, trying to hide the guilt he knew was written all over his face.

“Morning, Li,” he chimed, wincing immediately when his voice cracked. He waved to the others as he threw his bag under the table and dropped into the chair beside Liam. “How was your night?”

Liam crossed his arms, and Zayn let himself admire where his biceps bulged under his t-shirt. “It was fine. How late did you stay up reading?” He raised his eyebrows at Zayn, his face firm, but Zayn knew exactly how to soften him up, years of partnership meaning that he knew Liam almost better than he knew himself.

He leant forward and carded his fingers through Liam’s hair, hiding a smirk when he hummed and pushed into the touch, his face relaxing with every scratch of Zayn’s fingers across his scalp. “I just needed to see everything away from here. Sometimes it’s too hard to concentrate properly with all of you hangin’ around.” Zayn lifted his free hand to wave at Niall across the table, nodding back at Anthony as the man turned at the movement. When he shifted his gaze back to look at Liam again, he was met with an expectant gaze. Zayn huffed out a sigh and dropped his arm to rest along the back of Liam’s chair and mentally prepared himself. “Fine. I went to sleep around 3am.”

“Zayn!” Liam’s eye widened, and he reached out to slap Zayn lightly on the arm, making him wince. “That was three hours ago, and you would’ve had to have gotten up at five,” he scolded, his eyebrows furrowing even as his hand lingered to squeeze Zayn’s forearm. “You need to sleep more, babe. You’ll need to at least have a nap before we head to the church.”

Zayn hummed in agreement, his hand reaching up to ruffle Liam’s hair, as he reached forward with his other to drain the rest of his coffee. It was empty though, and he let his head fall to the desk with a _thump._ He’d known it had been a bad idea to stay up so late the night before such an important raid, the stakes high and his concentration more than necessary, but he hadn’t been able to put the files down. 

The entire situation felt _off_ , like they were handing themselves over, happily walking into a trap that they’d unintentionally managed to set themselves. It wasn’t that Zayn didn’t trust that the answer to the riddle was right, and the church was the obvious answer, but that was the problem. 

He lifted his head to rest it on his hands and watched Anthony as he started pulling up the specs of the operation, waving to Kirby and Neal as they wandered into the room. It was loud now, people talking over each other and laughter filling the small space, but it allowed Zayn to linger in his thoughts for a moment longer. 

He’d always trusted his gut and followed his instincts, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that his team was wrong. He threw his hand up in the air before he could help himself, and the shouts fell to murmurs as Anthony trailed off. 

“You know this isn’t school, Malik.” Amusement laced Anthony’s voice, but Zayn barely managed a smile even as Liam chuckled next to him. 

“I know, but this feels like a trap, sir.” The room fell quieter still, and Anthony seemed to stand up straighter to stare at him. Zayn swallowed, matching his posture to Anthony’s even as his palms sweated with everyone’s eyes on him. “They’ve been so careful so far. Incredibly meticulous and covering their tracks, so why would they lead us directly to them now? This could go seriously wrong.” Relief flowed through him as soon as the words left his mouth, his hands steadier as he listened to his gut. Even if it didn’t change anything, he’d needed to voice it, had to be rational in a situation fraught with guesses and tricks. The warmth of Liam’s hand where it suddenly landed on his thigh startled him slightly, but he was _sure_ , had read enough last night to know it didn’t make sense. 

It didn’t matter, though. 

“It’s worth the risk, Malik.” Anthony stared at him across the table, and Zayn already knew he was right. Anthony was always straight to the point, an excellent analyst when looking at a situation from all sides. His confidence always bled out to the team, their trust in him never wavering, and this time was no different. His gaze was still burning, but his posture had relaxed as he looked at Zayn, his face softer around the eyes. “We’re not doing this for us. It’s for everyone else.”

*****

Zayn’s thumb was starting to ache where he was chewing at his nail, but it was dull compared to the worry that was still settled in his mind. They were waiting in a Sunday School room for the all clear before they moved into the main room, or the _chancel_ as he’d been disgruntledly corrected by a volunteer there. 

_“Alright, lads,”_ Niall’s voice came through his earpiece, and Zayn adjusted it to sit better against the shell of his ear. _“We’re good to go. Civilians are well clear and the lights are off, but they’ve left some lit candles in the chancel.”_

Zayn’s brow furrowed, and he stopped gnawing at his thumb. “Do they need to keep those? Bit of a liability, yeah?” 

_“We wanna keep everything as normal as possible, mate. Give us the element of surprise.”_

“They already know we’ll be here, though!” Liam’s frustration was evident in his voice, and Zayn spun to look at him. He was frowning, standing tall and sure regardless. “They led us here, the extra light’s just gonna be a problem.”

Even though Zayn couldn’t see him, he knew Niall well enough to know that he was shrugging. _“Don’t shoot the messenger, Payno. Just givin’ ya a heads up.”_

Liam sighed, and it was reassuring for Zayn to know that he was just as uneasy about this, that they both knew this was a risky situation that they might not come out of okay. He moved to press himself to Liam’s side, pleased when his partner threw his arm around his shoulders. The rest of their team had eyes on them, and there was no doubt that they could see how close they were, but they were all used to it by now, had stopped with the teasing comments about boyfriends and lovers. 

He could hear that Liam was still talking to Niall, could hear the Irish lilt through the earpiece, but he didn’t settle until a hand came up to rest at the nape of his neck. Zayn slumped slightly, settling heavier against Liam’s side as Liam’s thumb started stroking gentle circles, and it was easier to focus now on the logistics of what they were about to do. 

It was a trick they’d discovered back in their training days, something Zayn knew Liam took advantage of. It settled his heart, the careful way Liam touched his neck, cleared his mind until he felt light enough to lift his head to face the world again. They’d found it by accident, this odd almost _switch_ that flicked in Zayn’s mind whenever Liam touched him there. It’d been the day before one of their final exams and Zayn had been almost shaking, his knee bouncing as he chewed on his nails until Liam stopped by to check in. He’d stumbled slightly, catching himself against Zayn’s body, and Zayn had almost melted into the touch when Liam tried to right himself. 

“Are you alright, babe?” It was a murmur against Zayn’s ear that made him shiver, Liam’s voice soothing. 

Zayn butted his head gently against the side of Liam’s face. “Yeah, just a bit on edge.” He heard a hum of agreement, but then Niall was telling them to move, that it was almost time, so with one last squeeze, Zayn felt as Liam’s hand dropped, and they moved as quietly out of the room and down the short hallway. Without Liam’s touch to ground him, to pull him back, Zayn’s heart rate picked up slightly as he saw the large wooden doors that led to the chancel. He was calmer than before, because Liam’s hands were _magic_ , but Zayn couldn’t quash the feeling that so much could go wrong here. 

The glock was always a welcome weight against Zayn’s hip, comforting and reassuring. He carried it almost everywhere, regardless of whether he was working or not. He’d seen too many stories of agents being ambushed, or being called out at any time, and he hated being unprepared for any situation. 

But the weight was different in moments like these; heavier, that feeling of safety evolving into something more dependable and crucial. The bulletproof vest hidden underneath his sweater added its own layers of sobriety, the constant reminder that Zayn needed to be prepared for the worst. It wasn’t that he didn’t still feel _safe_ ; he did, felt secure and ready, his body kicking into that state of laser focus, but it was Liam that always made him feel the safest. 

The rest of their team were outside the church, worried that too many people would stop whatever the unsub was planning, and Anthony trusted them both enough to do it on their own. They were incredibly capable, and the trust was warranted, but Zayn couldn’t get out of his own head. He quickly grabbed his handgun, cocking it before nodding at Liam where he was gripping the door handle. It was disorienting, this wash of unease; it was rare for a case to get to him this much, the murder and danger a constant in his job, and he frowned and shook his head as he followed Liam through the doors.

“Fuck.” 

Zayn shot a glare at Liam, a reminder to _shut up_ , but the cursing made sense when Zayn looked around the space. It was such a large space, light from the candle flames casting odd shadows all around the room, small alcoves and transepts every few metres along the walls. 

There were so many places for someone to hide, and they’d absolutely have to split up. 

“Ready?” 

Zayn nodded. “Ready.”

They split at the start of the aisle with a nod and a fistbump, the candlelight flickering off the walls and the moon shining in through the windows. Despite his religion, Zayn had always found a beauty in the architecture of old churches, all stone and marble and stained glass windows. He crouched slightly to duck into an alcove, and pressed himself into the shadows up against the cool stone wall. 

It was quiet, almost scarily so, no people sitting in the pews, no scurrying of creatures, or voices or music. Despite that, the chancel was so wide that even though Zayn listened carefully, he couldn’t hear Liam’s footsteps across the room. Liam would be moving quietly, light footed and cautious, but it just made the possibility of not hearing the unsub’s footsteps more prevalent, and Zayn took a deep breath. 

It was the voices in his ear that made him relax more though, that let him concentrate and know that they had his back. He could hear Niall in his earpiece, explaining that Liam was across the chancel, ducked into a transept underneath one of the large stained glass windows. Zayn shifted quickly, darting across the small pathway that wrapped around the pews and standing with his back flat against a pillar, slinking with the shadows to stay hidden. 

_“I’ve got motion sensors at all the exits and in this room, but we can’t trust this arsehole won’t know their way around.”_ Niall seemed to be chewing gum, and Zayn wrinkled his nose at the sound. _“I’ve got eyes on the church’s camera system too, but it’s not extensive. I’ll keep you updated.”_

“Thanks mate,” Zayn murmured back as he took a minute to gain his bearings.

Adrenaline coursed through his system, steady but thrumming as he pulled out his gun, cocking it before holding it tightly as he chanced a glance around the stone. They were expecting movement at the altar, or in the apse behind, according to the riddle, but Zayn’s attention snapped to where Liam was crouched right across the room from him, hidden from most angles apart from Zayn’s.

The transept Liam was in was lit with candles, and it made all of Liam’s features look soft and warm, the light through the coloured glass hitting the floor in front of him. He looked beautiful, ethereal almost, chin high enough for Zayn to see the angles of his jaw. Liam was almost always his biggest distraction out of the office, with his strong features and broad shoulders, and Zayn almost had to kick himself to stop from looking at him. There was a flash of movement then though, too close to where Liam was standing, like someone had just passed in front of a group of candles.

“On your left,” Zayn murmured into the small microphone on his chest, gripping his gun tighter as adrenaline raced through his system. He watched the shadow of his partner as it skittered across the wall on the other side of the room, flinching as he swore under his breath. “For fuck’s sake Liam, watch your damn shadow. There’s candles everywhere, you’re lucky you didn’t just expose yourself,” he hissed, frustrated when Liam’s chuckle came through his earpiece.

“You wish, Malik.” Liam’s whispered response made Zayn smirk, but it slid off his face when he realised where Liam was headed; straight to the altar, too risky when they had no idea where the unsub was.

“Don’t even think about it, or I swear to God I will - ” Zayn started, but he cut off when a shadow cut the room in front of him, causing Liam to flatten himself further into the wall. Even though Zayn couldn’t see him hidden behind the corner now, he swore he heard the eye roll.

“Well what do you suggest we do? Just wait?”

Just as Zayn opened his mouth to respond, anger rushing through him, Niall’s voice cut into their comms.

_‘Listen to Zayn, you fucken’ idiot. I haven’t finished checking everything yet, and if something happens to you, I’m the one that’ll have to stop Zaynie from killing everyone. Is that a report you wanna write, mate? Is it?’_

Zayn watched as Liam’s head popped out cautiously from behind the smooth marble, and he couldn’t help the fondness in his heart at the small grin that sat on his face.

“Well I wouldn’t have to write the report, would I?” Liam whispered, and Zayn almost ripped his earpiece out so he wouldn’t have to hear the smug tone. “That’d be all Zayn.”

“It’s always ‘all me’ anyway, you great lug,” Zayn scoffed quietly, but they all went quiet when a sharp noise made them freeze.

He still jolted at the next crack of sound, echoing against the cold walls and high wooden beams, his heart kickstarting in his chest. 

_High heels._

It was high heels clacking on the stone floor, crisp and obvious, and Zayn flattened himself closer to the pillar. The sound seemed to be everywhere, the open space making it too difficult to distinguish, so Zayn quickly looked out into the dark room. He couldn’t see anyone, but noticed that Liam had moved from his position towards the altar. He watched Liam motion for him to head towards the front door, spreading them further apart as Niall stayed oddly quiet in his ear. The clacking of his keyboard was loud though, and Zayn darted back into the shadows that he’d come from. 

He moved slowly, carefully, treading as lightly as possible as the footsteps continued to echo around him. As he focused on it, stopped to really listen to it, his stomach swirled with unease. There was something _wrong,_ the footsteps all sounding exactly the same, the timing perfect between each one. Now that Zayn focused on it, more alert and prepared, the sound wasn’t moving around the room at all, just staying in the one place, and realisation hit him just as Liam’s voice came over his comms.

_“It’s a recording, Zayn. There’s a portable speaker at the front of the aisle. Be alert. I’m gonna head back around the altar, are you alright to keep moving towards the front?”_

It was an even bigger separation, and it might be too far, so Zayn told Liam as such while he stayed where he was. “Are you sure? It’s a big space to cross if something happens.”

_“It’ll be fine babe. Just be on your toes.”_

Liam had moved further away, a glancing shadow on the church wall showing his movement, and Zayn couldn’t stop the unease that crawled up his spine. Having Liam further apart made his stomach swirl, the fact this was a trap seeming more obvious by the second. Zayn tried to pay attention to every shadow, every tiny sound that couldn’t be written off as the wind, and took a deep breath to prepare himself. He didn’t get the chance, though. 

He heard Niall swear in his ear as he told Liam that the sensors had picked up something at the door, heard a rush that indicated movement near the back, away from where he was, so he left it to Liam as he did a quick sweep of his own surroundings. Liam was closer to the back entrance, and Zayn needed to be sure the front area was clear. Liam could handle it, and Zayn was fine on his own. 

A mistake.

A heavy weight smashed into his arm and he let out a startled yelp as his grip loosened on his pistol. He tried to call out for help, but a hand clamped over his mouth, and he knew the chancel was too large for Liam to reach him in time regardless of whether he’d heard anything or not. 

Before he could get his bearings, there was a body against his back, a pain in his shoulder as his arm was twisted behind him, and a coolness against his throat that stung when he struggled. 

_A knife._

He stilled instantly when a puff of air blew over his ear, a shaky breath leaving his lips to hit the warm hand still over his mouth. Liam’s voice came calmly through his earpiece, advising Zayn that the back door was clear, but he didn’t need it; the reminder was perfectly clear, restraining him. He struggled, tried to twist out of the hold once more or just catch Liam’s attention, but the grip on Zayn’s wrists was too tight, and his glock hit the floor with a _crash_. 

A soft voice washed over him as the knife dug slightly into his skin, and Zayn squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel the slow drip of blood on his skin, a small trickle from where the blade was digging into his neck.

_God Liam, please, for fuck’s sake, please._

“It would be so easy to kill you, you know.” The voice didn’t seem to be disguised, but Zayn couldn’t pick apart any real details, knew he hadn’t heard it before. “Slice your throat from ear to ear, let your friends find you bleeding out on the floor. I wish I could stay long enough to see your partner as he finds you. You’re a pretty one. I hope he’s the same,” the voice stopped, and Liam came clearer through their comms, worry tinging his voice as it must’ve clicked that Zayn wasn’t responding, that he _couldn’t_ , “but, it’s not time yet.” 

He could hear Liam and Niall, calling to him, Liam’s voice echoing through the church and Niall’s pounding in his ears. There was a stronger fear now, even as Liam got closer, that he’d be too late, that Zayn was going to _die_ here, the fourth victim of a serial killer. Liam was going to find his body, was going to have to see him with his throat slit. What if someone happened to _Liam_ too? Zayn took a shaky breath, but it wasn’t enough. 

_“Fuck, Payno I don’t know where he is, I don’t have eyes on him.”_

The footsteps were getting sloppy now in the chancel as Liam must’ve started running, but Zayn couldn’t calm himself down properly. “I’m trying to get there Horan, but it’s a big fucking room, okay? Zayn, babe, it’s alright, I swear to God if you’re fucking with me, I’ll - .”

And then there was a blow to Zayn’s head, and everything went black. 

*****

It was the incessant beeping that registered first, a constant, rhythmic electronic sound that infiltrated Zayn’s mind and pulled him from his rest. The second thing he noticed was the heavy weight of something against his thigh, comforting but confusing, and then his head throbbed, deep and alarming, and his eyes fluttered open.

The lights were overwhelmingly bright, the scent sterile and familiar, clean but too intense. He was groggy, and when he tried to lift his hand, it was a struggle, both because he was too weak, and because it was settled under a blanket. He blinked, squinting at the lights above his head and wincing when a sharp pain pulled at his arm, right near his elbow. There was a needle stuck in his skin attached to an IV, and all of the puzzle pieces slotted together perfectly when he realised he was in a hospital bed, and he had no idea how long he’d been here.

There’d been enough hospital visits during Zayn’s career that he had a routine now, a checklist of sorts to try and judge how badly he’d been injured while his mind still caught up. His hearing was fine, as were his sense of smell and sight. The slightly rough texture of the hospital grade blanket against his covered hand let him know his sense of touch was okay, and the soft blanket on top did the same for his left hand where it rested on his stomach. He wriggled his fingers and toes, bent his knees and elbows, moved slightly to establish any kind of problem. All he found was a sore head and a slightly sore neck, and when his eyes got used to the lights, he noticed that there was someone sitting in a shitty hospital chair right up against his bed. 

The hand resting on his thigh was instantly familiar, the sight of tattoos settling the feeling in his chest, as was the head of hair resting on top of it. Liam was snoring slightly, his face turned towards Zayn, mouth open and slightly drooling, and Zayn wished he could wake his body up enough to run his hand through Liam’s hair, feel how soft it was between his fingers as it calmed his racing heart. Liam’s body was sitting at an awful angle so that his head could rest against Zayn, his back hunched in a way that would no doubt make him sore when he woke up.

Zayn had woken up in hospital to Liam at his side before, but never when he was asleep. Usually the rest of their team were nearby or in the room, and Zayn got a kiss on the top of his head when he woke up. Ridiculously enough, his bottom lip dropped at the realisation that Liam hadn’t given him his kiss yet. Rude, but there was no way Zayn was going to wake him up. He could wait.

It would’ve been easy to fall back asleep, just rest his eyes and his body for a little bit longer, drift back into a world where all it encompassed was him and Liam, comforting and soft, but awareness was creeping back into his mind, flashes of files and riddles and candles, and then he was flooded with thoughts of the case.

He squeezed his eyes shut to try and concentrate on one thing at a time. He could remember everything up until the church, and from there on it was only little glimpses that confused him; hearing Niall over the comms, splitting from Liam to cover different ends of the building, a whispered voice that he couldn’t place and a pressure against his throat.

Oh. There’d been a hand over his mouth and a _knife_ to his throat, sharp and steady, which probably explained the odd pain radiating from just near his Adam’s apple. Zayn shifted carefully, hyperaware that Liam deserved more sleep, and carefully lifted his arm. It was heavy, but he felt a bit stronger now he was more awake, and he let it hover over Liam’s head so he could carefully lower it into the chocolate curls.

Except he was still tired, and his arm fell through the air and smacked Liam straight in the forehead. Liam jolted awake with a final snore, eyes wide and confused.

“Fuck Li, I’m so sorry.” Zayn’s voice was slightly croaky, and he shifted again to hold Liam’s hand where it was still resting against his thigh. “I was just tryna touch your hair, but --.”

He was cut off when Liam flung himself forward to sit on the edge of the bed, wrapping Zayn up in his arms so tightly that Zayn wasn’t sure he was getting enough air. It bewildered him, the desperate way Liam was clinging to him with his face buried in the crook of Zayn’s shoulder, but then other small glimpses cracked through his thoughts; Liam crouching over him in the church, Liam’s hand covered in blood, the distraught look on his face in the ambulance. They were only flashes, like Zayn had been drifting in and out of consciousness, but Liam’s face was clear against the fuzzy backdrop every time, like he was all Zayn had been able to focus on. He was about to squeeze him back, tell Liam that he was _fine_ , but then he felt wetness against the side of his neck, and he pulled back instead.

Liam was _crying_ , tears running down his cheeks as he closed his eyes, and Zayn forgot all about the pain in his body and reached up to cup his face. He’d only seen Liam cry once when he’d been injured, and it’d been the first time he’d ended up in the hospital. They’d both seen the other hurt numerous times, been stuck in hospitals or tended to at scenes, but Zayn hadn’t seen Liam like this in years. He could hear him whispering something over and over, and it took him a few seconds to realise Liam was saying ‘sorry, I’m so sorry’, over and over again. 

“Hey, _hey_.” Zayn let his thumbs wipe at the trails on Liam’s cheeks as he sniffled, and his heart stuttered in his chest. “Babe I’m fine, what’s going on?”

There was a mumbling then, something that Zayn was sure he’d misheard because it was impossible that Liam had _actually_ said it, and Zayn held his face more firmly between his hands and asked him to repeat it. Liam’s voice was so soft and cracked that it seemed to be a struggle to get the words out, so Zayn just let his fingers play along the stubble at Liam’s jawline until he answered with a shaky breath. 

“Do you even remember what happened?” Zayn made a so-so motion with his hand and let it cup Liam’s face again immediately, and Liam pushed on as Zayn felt his fingers carefully rest against the back of his neck. “I couldn’t hear any movement up near the altar, and I asked you if you’d heard anything but you just...didn’t respond. I thought maybe you hadn’t heard me, but Niall started talking and I didn’t understand, so I just kept asking you to _answer_ me Zayn, I just kept _asking_ and you didn’t _say_ anything, and,” Liam took a deep breath, and all Zayn could do was watch him carefully, cautious of the panic seeping into his tone, “I could feel something was wrong and I tried to get to you in time, I _did,_ but I was too late and you were just,” he shook his head almost violently, and Zayn held him tighter to keep him steady, “laying on the ground, bleeding from your throat and there was blood on the ground under your head and I swear to _God_ , Zayn.” Liam looked at him then, eyes boring into his until Zayn let out a shaky breath. “I thought you were dead, I was _so sure_ that I’d fucked everything up, I’m so sorry.” 

Zayn let go of Liam’s face to run his fingers over the front of his throat, and all he could gather was that there was gauze there. It was tender to touch, but obvious there were no stitches, the lack of threads clear when he pressed slightly harder, wincing. Liam’s eyes were shining with tears, his hand still on the back of Zayn’s neck, and he looked like someone had just shattered his world. Then, his last words kicked in.

“Why are you sorry?” Zayn was genuinely confused. “I’ve been hurt before, Li.” 

“Because this isn’t a twisted ankle, or a broken nose from a suspect, or even a stray gunshot in the arm!” That _had_ hurt, but there was no time to dwell on it as Liam continued. “It’s the ease with which they could’ve slit your throat, and the fact they hit you hard enough to knock you out for hours and give you a concussion, and that a cryptic serial killer left a _note_ on your chest when you were bleeding onto the stone, a serial killer that _easily_ could’ve taken you and done everything we know they’ve been doing!” He was breathing heavily now, red in the face and tears still in his eyes, and Zayn had no idea what to do. 

Zayn shifted in the bed, wincing slightly as he moved and regretting it when Liam’s eyes widened. “I’m fine, Li. What note?” 

“I - there was a note on your chest saying how easily you could’ve died, and they’re right, Zayn. It talked about how easy we’d been to manipulate, and there was a riddle too, but the cryptos are working on that.”

“A riddle?” Zayn perked up, trying to look around to see if Liam had a copy with him, but he caught sight of the look still on his partner’s face and stopped short. “Liam. I’m fine, I’ve been hurt before, we have more evidence and clues now. Why are you so upset?” 

“Because it’s my fault!”

Zayn stared at him in silence; he couldn’t even begin to understand what to say, or tell Liam how wrong he was. He could feel Liam’s fingers trembling slightly against the nape of his neck, and fucking hell. They’d _never_ blamed each other or themselves for anything like this before. Liam had always been protective of Zayn, just as Zayn was of him, and while Liam often took things a bit more personally than Zayn did, like it was his sole job to protect him, he’d never blamed himself so fully for something like this. 

Zayn shook his head, trying not to scoff because Liam looked like he was about to have a breakdown, and Zayn needed to be delicate; Liam was his bodyguard, they joked, even though Zayn could easily take care of himself, his mountain of a partner that people always assumed wasn’t full of love and care and _brilliance._

“How the fuck is it your fault?” Zayn asked softly, and the tone didn’t match up with the curse, but he felt that both were necessary to get across the jumble of emotions he had, the tangle of everything that Liam usually carefully unknotted and tucked into his own chest.

“It was my idea to split up and separate even more.” Liam exhaled shakily and moved to take Zayn’s hands in his, a lone tear hitting the blanket when he looked down. “I knew it was a trap, and I didn’t push hard enough to change anything, and instead I just separated us more. I would’ve reached you quicker if we’d stayed together Zayn, they wouldn’t have been able to touch you if I hadn’t made that fucking ridiculous call because I was cocky - .”

Zayn cut him off, shaking his head. “Liam, there was literally no way you could’ve known how close they were to me. It easily could’ve been you, this is not your fault. It was probably my fault really, I should’ve been paying more attention. I let them get away, if you wanna be pedantic about it.”

“I made the call, Zayn!” Liam was squeezing his hands so tightly that Zayn tried not to wince. “It was my decision to spread out, and you almost fucking died. I’m supposed to have your back, and protect you, and I just made a careless decision that didn’t even make sense!”

“Liam, we had no idea. This isn’t your fault, babe,” Zayn pleaded, thumbs tracing gently over Liam’s knuckles. “Please, I’m fine, we have more to go on, and now we match kinda.”

Liam paused and looked at him like he’d gone slightly mad. “What do you mean we match?”

“Here,” Zayn grinned, and let his thumb move up to rub gently over Liam’s birthmark on his neck. “I know it’s not the same thing, but I bet I’ll have a tiny scar and we’ll match.” Even when he’d been crying, eyes puffy and cheeks red, Liam was still beautiful when a surprised smile started to spread across his face, and Zayn had to swallow the words back down into his stomach to squash the butterflies there.

There was a small chuckle, wet but heart-warming, and Liam moved forward to rest their foreheads together. “I’ll never stop thinking it was my fault.” He nudged their noses together, and Zayn’s hand twitched. “I almost lost you.”

Zayn snorted and closed his eyes. “Then I’ll just keep convincing you it wasn’t.” They sat together for a long moment, just basking in the warmth and love that swirled around them, confusing and necessary until Zayn spoke again. “What happened after you found me?”

He heard Liam sigh, and his breath ghosted over Zayn’s lips. “I tried to wake you up, but I didn’t really know how to. I didn’t wanna make it worse, and Niall had already called an ambulance. I didn’t see anyone, and Niall has no idea how they left, so we’re back at square one.” Liam moved closer to Zayn on the bed and shifted them so they were laying down, Zayn’s head pillowed carefully on Liam’s chest. “I saw the note almost as an afterthought. I was gonna go after them, but I had no idea where they went and there was no way I was leaving you.”

Zayn snuggled closer into Liam, careful of his IV as he slung his arm over his stomach. “And the rest of the team didn’t see anything?”

“Nothing. It’s like they just vanished.” Liam ran a gentle hand through Zayn’s hair. “How’s your head?”

It’d settled to a dull throb during their conversation, but it was starting to thump again, a relentless rhythm at the base of his skull, so he told Liam as much, closing his eyes to try to block it out. He felt Liam move slightly and whined, but then the call bell sounded, and Zayn tried to wrap himself around Liam before he’d surely have to get up. He was suddenly exhausted, not really sure how to keep awake long enough for the nurses.

“Hey Li?”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t get my hospital kiss.”

A little chuckle and another shift, and then Zayn felt Liam’s lips press against the top of his head as his arms tightened around Zayn’s waist. He was safe now, looked after and loved, so he sighed, burrowed in closer, and let himself drift off.

“Love you, Leeyum.”

“Love you too, Zaynie.”

With Liam’s heartbeat steady against his ear, and his own rabbiting in his chest, Zayn let himself be pulled back into his dreams. 

*****

They’d kept him in the hospital for three days to ensure there was no long-lasting damage, and he’d hated every minute of it. His head had been cracked open by a blunt instrument that they hadn’t been able to find, but it hadn’t been too deep, the amount of blood not quite indicative of the injury that had been sustained. Head wounds always bled a lot, always looked a lot worse than they really were, and Zayn’s had been no different. He hadn’t needed any real stitches, just a couple of butterfly ones after they’d shaved almost the entire bottom half of his head.

He’d made Liam bring a shaver at one visit and tidy it up, neaten up the edges, and he was itching to colour it now, change it up from the black to something that let him feel like he had more control. It’d become a defence mechanism in a way, his hair colour. Anytime there was a bad case, or Liam was injured, anytime he felt like a failure or he didn’t believe anyone who told him he was enough, he dyed his hair. He’d had a variety of colours so far, blond and pink and blue and green, but he’d been eyeing off a grey recently, something Niall had said would make him look prettier than he was. 

To be honest, he was lucky that MI5 were more lenient on how they looked than they used to be, didn't really care about his tattoos and piercings and hair. He supposed it helped that him and Liam were excellent at what they did, and it didn’t matter what they looked like. They’d had to cover their tattoos numerous times though, a special makeup doing the job perfectly before they went on covert missions. Most of the time, they were fine though, and Zayn loved the freedom he had to express himself. 

There were still some of his colleagues that looked at him oddly, some of his superiors or older agents that looked him up and down. It was happening now as he stepped off the lift, but there was a level of quiet sympathy there too, the news of his hospital visit most likely travelling around the building by now. He wasn’t _technically_ supposed to be there today, was supposed to be home resting, but all he’d been able to think about while he was in hospital was the case. It wasn’t fair that his team had to work it without him, even just one extra person could be incredibly valuable at times like this. 

Since he wasn’t technically working, he'd just thrown on jeans and a hoodie, one that he couldn’t remember stealing but that was warm and smelled like spiced cologne and smoke. It was undeniably Liam’s, and he pulled the cuffs down over his hands as he wandered to Anthony’s office. On the way in, he stopped briefly to say hi to Shawn and Neal at their office, but they all startled when Anthony’s shouting bled out into the air of the main floor.

 _“ -_ incredibly stupid, Payne. You should’ve _known_ not to make that call. Of all the times you’ve been on a mission, I’ve never seen you make -.” 

Zayn didn’t bother saying goodbye as he quickly made his way down the hall, and when he turned the corner, he was glad that Anthony’s office had floor to ceiling glass windows. 

It was supposed to create an open environment, an approachable work space where people knew that they could talk to Anthony about anything. It worked perfectly, and Zayn could remember dozens of heart to heart chats he’d had with his boss.

Right now though, all it did was show Anthony standing behind his desk, hands flat against it and fury on his face as he stared at Liam sitting across from him. Anthony’s door was shut, a clear sign that he didn’t want to be disturbed, but now that Zayn was closer, he could hear every word as Liam spoke. 

“I know, sir.” Liam was dejected, voice quiet but steady. “I’ve apologised to Zayn.”

Anthony scoffed. “As you should’ve. He could’ve been killed, Payne.” 

A choked off sigh. “I _know,_ sir.” 

“Look, Liam.” Anthony’s expression had softened very slightly, but it was enough that Zayn felt a glimmer of hope. His voice had lowered too, almost kinder now. “I know you probably feel like shit. I know how much he means to you, but you have to recognise that your actions weren’t good enough. First you make the wrong call, and abandon him in the church. Then, once he’s in danger, you forget everything we’ve ever taught you about safety protocols and come barging in like you’re a superhero, trying to save the day. You put not just Zayn but yourself in serious danger!” Zayn watched as Liam flinched, like Anthony had dealt him a physical blow. “The two of you are my best agents, and I know that you know it. Your partnership is what everyone wants, Payne, and it’s honestly a joy to watch the two of you work together.” Anthony sighed heavily and sat in his chair, and Zayn tried to back away slightly so he wouldn’t draw attention. They seemed too invested to notice him though. “But sometimes, the relationship you have,” he paused, and he seemed to be mulling over the right words, “it’s almost a liability. I can’t have you putting yourself in danger because you know he’s at risk and running into a dangerous situation you knew nothing about, Payne. That’s why we have Horan, and the rest of your team. He’s not your sole responsibility, and it was idiotic. The unsub could’ve had a gun! You both could’ve died.”

Liam visibly bristled. “If you think I’m not going to try and help him as much as I can, you have no idea what our partnership’s like. And a liability? Zayn and I work better together than anyone else, you just admitted it! Why would our friendship be a problem? Me making that call has nothing to do with mine and Zayn’s relationship outside of work.” 

“I’m not saying it does, Liam, but I’ve seen the way you both put yourself in the line of fire for the other. I know it’s almost seen as common practice here, that level of protection, but I gave you three days of personal leave so you could be with him,” Anthony explained, his eyebrows raised, and Zayn was glad he wasn’t the one in there. “You _slept_ there that first night, Liam. I’m not saying that your...relationship can’t, or shouldn’t, continue. I think the two of you are well suited, regardless of how much I try to stay out of my team’s personal life, but I need you to start to consider the impact it might be having on your partnership.”

Zayn knew Liam shouldn’t have been at the hospital that much, but Liam had reassured him that he was still working. He must’ve meant at home, which explained the tired eyes and constant yawning, hardly getting any sleep so he could be there for Zayn. Anthony’s words set off alarm bells in his head though, the purposeful definition between ‘relationship’ and ‘partnership’, and he was too late when he realised that Liam was in for a slightly awkward conversation. 

Liam fidgeted, playing with a loose thread in his slacks. “I didn’t _ask_ for the time off,” he mumbled, but the look on Anthony’s face had him backtracking. “Not that I’m not incredibly grateful, thank you sir - .” 

“You’re welcome.”

“ - but what does me and Zayn being best mates have to do with this?” 

Oh, Liam. Sweet, lovely, Liam. 

Anthony’s eyebrows knitted together, and Zayn had to hold back a snort of laughter. “I mean, the fact that you and Zayn are in a romantic relationship.”

Liam completely froze in his seat, and it would’ve been funnier if there wasn’t the potential for everything to fall to shit. “I - Zayn and I - it’s not,” Liam spluttered, and Zayn couldn’t do anything but watch. “Sir, Zayn and I are just best friends. Nothing more. I’m sorry if you thought otherwise.”

There was genuine confusion on Anthony’s face as he stared at Liam, and Liam stared right back. “Let me get this right. You and Zayn, the people who cannot go more than five minutes without touching each other in my board room, are not a couple?”

“No, no sir, we’re not,” Liam choked out, and Zayn felt like he’d never experienced a longer pause, like every second that ticked by was just a repeat of the one before it, a trick, and time wasn’t really moving at all. 

Anthony was still staring at Liam, but his eyebrows were twitching and his face scrunched, like he was deep in thought, trying to add up everything he thought he already knew. The silence was growing awkward now, Liam fidgeting in his seat, and Anthony cleared his throat. “I - I apologise Liam, I truly thought - . You’re just so affectionate and loving, I just assumed.”

Liam looked a second away from passing out. “No harm done, sir. We’re just...very affectionate people.”

He didn’t look convinced, but Anthony pushed on anyway. “It still doesn’t change anything. Your relation - _friendship_ is still beginning to encroach on your work, and while I don’t think anything needs to really change necessarily, I just need you to be more aware of what’s going on.”

“Do you want us to be less...affectionate?” Liam sounded almost devastated at the idea.

Anthony sighed, and there was a slight eye roll. “No, Payne. I don’t care how much you touch each other, or anything of the sort. It obviously works for the two of you. I just need you to be more careful, because I can’t have you losing your mind every time something happens to him.”

“He almost fucking _died,_ Anthony.”

“I know that. Do you? Because you’re acting as though Zayn getting hurt is separate from your job, like nothing else matters when Zayn’s injured. They’re completely connected Liam, and I need you to understand why caring about Zayn, and making sure you do your job, need to have equal footing in your mind,” Anthony steepled his fingers in front of him on the desk, the perfect model of stern and powerful. “Right now, the fact is that Zayn almost died because you were careless and split up, and that’s because you didn’t do your job properly, not because you were doing it so well by racing off to check on him after it.”

Zayn couldn’t stop the surge of protectiveness that jolted through his body when he took in Liam’s downcast eyes and clasped hands, the way his fingers were twisting. He didn’t even really think it through before he was bursting in despite the closed door, and both men turned to stare at him. 

“Malik.” Anthony sounded more surprised than angry, which Zayn took as a win. “You know what it means when my door is closed, especially when you absolutely shouldn’t be here.”

Ah. There was the anger.

Zayn held up his hand. “I know, I’m sorry, I just wanted to see if there was any progress and I couldn’t help but overhear, and Liam doesn’t deserve any kind of punishment.”

“I’d hardly think that’s your decision to make.”

“I know,” Zayn tried to stress, ignoring the way that Liam was openly staring at him, “but I had to say it anyway.”

The room was silent for a moment as Anthony just stared at the both of them, eyes flicking back and forth until he just sighed, a common thing for him today, and gestured for Zayn to sit in the empty seat next to Liam. Zayn pulled it over until it was pressed against Liam’s, staring back at Anthony as Liam automatically lifted his hand to run through Zayn’s hair. He settled back into his chair with a hum, the touch soothing despite the fact their boss was sitting directly in front of them, and tilted his head to look at his partner. 

“You’re wearing my hoodie.” Liam was smiling now, something soft and secret, and Zayn grinned back at him. 

“It’s soft, and it smells like you.” He buried his face in the collar, and pushed his head up into Liam’s hand. “Comforting.” He could hear Anthony muttering something that sounded suspiciously like _‘don’t believe I was wrong_ ’, but he ignored it. He’d only just left the hospital; sue him for wanting affection. 

“It’s lucky you’re here actually, Malik. They figured out the riddle that was left on your chest at the church.” Anthony shuffled papers on his desk as Zayn snapped to attention. “The next victim is a contestant of the upcoming Mr. UK pageant. It’s a great breakthrough, but we have a slight problem.”

Zayn looked to Liam for answers, but it was obvious this was the first he’d heard of it too. “Which is?”

“We’re going to need someone to go undercover, and it’s going to be you.”

Liam’s hand fell to the back of Zayn’s chair with a _thump._


	3. II

“Absolutely not.” Liam’s heart felt like it was in his _throat_ , the beat pounding in his ears, and even getting those words out was a struggle. “No.”

A sting of hurt crossed Zayn’s face, but Liam couldn’t explain himself; he didn’t feel like he could even _talk_ right now. The thought that Zayn would be on his own, somewhere Liam couldn’t help him, just had him imagining more pools of blood, more cuts and bruises and having to check that Zayn was even still _breathing_ and - .

Zayn shifted away from Liam, small and subtle, but the reason was clear when Liam felt the soft material of his own hoodie disappear from under his fingertips. “Why not me?”

“I – I can’t have what happened in the church happening again, the unsub got away and I don’t think - .” _– I could handle seeing you like that again._

“Don’t think I would actually be able to stop them this time either?” Zayn’s entire demeanour had shifted, his back straight and eyebrows raised, and Liam didn’t understand why he was so _angry_. He just wanted Zayn to be safe, not stuck somewhere without help right at his side.

It wasn’t that Liam suddenly didn’t think Zayn was capable; of course he was, more than, but he didn’t trust _himself_ now, Chewy’s voice echoing in his head.

_‘I can’t have you losing your mind every time something happens to him.’_

It was too soon, and Liam wasn’t ready to face the possibility of Zayn getting hurt again, especially not in the same case when they still didn’t have any idea who the unsub was.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Zayn! I just think it’d be better if it was me.”

“I don’t understand,” Zayn shook his head, confusion lacing his voice even as it gave way to frustration. “What, do you not think I’m - I’m pretty enough, or something?”

Liam blinked. “What?!”

Of course Zayn was pretty enough; he was beautiful, all sharp angles and soft eyes and brilliant personality. The problem wasn’t that he wasn’t pretty, it was almost that he was _too_ pretty, and he’d absolutely be a target if he played the role right.

Knowing Zayn, he’d absolutely nail it.

“Boys, I don’t have time for whatever’s happening here,” Chewy interrupted just as Liam was trying to explain himself. “The pageant’s exactly what you’d expect it to be; full of egotistical muscle heads who just want their 5 seconds of fame. It’s 30 men from around the country, and there’s all the good stuff. Talent shows, a formalwear event, a swimsuit competition.” Chewy passed them pamphlets, and Liam tried not to stare at the overwhelming colours. “We have no real idea of what we’re in for, so Zayn, you’ll be posing as a contestant, so you have access to as much as possible. The organisers know, and we’ll be keeping an eye on you from a distance, but you’re mainly on your own in the field for this one.”

He could see Zayn nodding, but the only thing Liam could think was _no no no._

“It can’t be Zayn, it has to be me.”

Anthony groaned, and threw a file back on the desk. “Why? Give me a proper answer, Payne.”

There was nothing he could think of on the spot that wouldn’t give too much away, nothing that was better than _I love him_ , and he blurted out the only thing he could think of that might change Chewy’s mind, even though it was a lie.

“I’m better at undercover work, and I have more experience. This is a serious case, and we can’t get it wrong. I’ve been on dozens of assignments, and Zayn’s only done half that.”

The sharp intake of breath to his right told him that he’d hurt Zayn even more, that they were in for an argument that he couldn’t win, didn’t deserve to win, but if it helped change this, then maybe it wasn’t in vain.

“I’ve already made up my mind. It’s Zayn.”

Just as Liam wilted at the thought that apparently, logic and proper reasoning (despite the lie; Zayn was brilliant at undercover work) didn’t work, one final thought popped into his head. It was a smoking gun, and it’d come just in time. 

“They know what he looks like!” Liam tried to keep his voice down, but there was no controlling the volume when the words burst out of his mouth. “They’ve seen him, been so close to him that they _cut him_ , you’d be sending him in for a suicide mission. They’ll kill him the second they see him.”

Anthony didn’t look open for discussion. “He’ll look different, we’ll make sure of it. We’ll leave his tattoos uncovered, give him a prosthetic chin and maybe a different nose. His head’s mainly shaved now, too.” He turned his attention to Zayn. “You wanted to dye your hair soon anyway, didn’t you?” 

Zayn nodded slowly, his face cautious, and Liam couldn’t stop looking between the two of them, frantic now at the thought of what they were trying to do. He wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, why his hands were trembling or why his heart was racing. All he knew was that his fear was manifesting into anger, tangling together to create a lethal combination in a situation he’d already ruined.

“Are you serious? _Why_? It should be me, sir, you know it should be.” He was shouting now, like an absolute _moron_ , like everything he was doing to try and help his cause was making it worse. He knew he was twisting Zayn further, pushing against the stubbornness that was surely telling him Liam just didn’t think he’d do a good enough job, but there was no other option here. “It has to be me.”

Anthony stood from behind his desk, and Liam swallowed heavily. “It is _not up for negotiation,_ Payne. This last mission just proved that I can’t trust you in the field right now. You made a completely irresponsible decision that resulted in your partner ending up in hospital, and there’s no guarantee that you won’t make a similar call.”

Liam laughed in disbelief and threw his arms up. “What, and you think I’ll just sit happily at home while Zayn’s out with a target on his back? You just told me I made a mistake by leaving him, and now you’re asking me to do it again!”

“It is your _job_ , Payne! We’re not having this conversation again. Your job is not to be his protector, he is more than capable of looking after himself!”

“ _He_ is sitting right here, thank you very much,” Zayn interjected, but Liam ignored him. 

“It’s not my whole job, but it is _part_ of my job,” Liam argued, leaning back in his chair to put some space between him and Anthony. “I’m not trying to be difficult sir, I’m not, but after everything that’s just happened, it’ll be too much of a risk to put him undercover. If you don’t want me to do it,” his chest twinged at the words, “why can’t it be Neal? Or Shawn?”

Anthony leant forward, palms flat on the desk and a chill decorating his features. “Because neither of them have undercover experience, and I’m not bringing someone else into the case. It’s too important to send in an undercover rookie, and we’ll change Zayn’s features enough that he won’t be recognised.” Liam scoffed and opened his mouth to argue, but Anthony held up his hand. “End of discussion. You both have a meeting with a professional pageant trainer tomorrow, and then the head of the pageant company on Friday. We don’t have enough time for you to learn this on your own, and we need all the help we can get. I have meetings for the rest of the day and tomorrow, so you won’t be able to contact me until Friday afternoon.” He waved his hand towards his door. “You’re both dismissed, get out of my office.”

Liam was moving before Anthony had even finished talking. He slammed the door behind him and he knew he’d caused a scene, but the feeling wasn’t enough to stop the hot combination of fear and anger that was still raging through his body.

“Liam, _Liam_ , for fuck’s - sorry, sorry,” Zayn was catching up to him, clearly trying to weave through the agents in the hallway, but Liam didn’t slow. “Will you just fucking _stop_?”

It wasn’t until he’d made it back to their office that he was jolted backwards by a firm grip on his arm and he spun around to see Zayn’s face carved in fury and ready for a fight. Liam straightened his back and squared his shoulders.

Zayn shut their door with a bang. “What the fuck was that? Are you serious?” He laughed, but it was laced with disbelief. “God, if I’d known you were gonna be such an arsehole about this, you could’ve just done it! If I’d known that you thought I was gonna do such a shit job, I would’ve just let you do it!” Zayn was pacing between their desks now, but Liam froze.

He stepped backwards slowly to lean against his desk, white noise buzzing in his head. “You actually think I don’t want you to do this because you _won’t do a good enough job_?” His voice was steady, but his hands were trembling where he gripped the edge of his desk, and he was almost surprised that it didn’t splinter when his fingers tightened.

“What the fuck else am I supposed to think after what you’ve just said?” Zayn lifted his chin, standing firm, and Liam stopped for a second to admire his stubbornness. “You were such a prick back there! We’ve been partners for years, Liam, and now you don’t trust me? I can’t believe —.”

Liam was already shaking his head. “Were you even _listening_ to me? This has nothing to do with me not trusting you but—.”

“But what? You worried I’ll fuck it up like I did at the church, yeah? Worried I’ll let them slip through my fingers again?”

It was the mention of the ambush that did it, that pushed him over the edge as his body thrummed with the need to protect like he had failed to do the first time.

“It’s because I’m terrified you’ll get hurt again!” Liam exploded, and he couldn’t control himself anymore, moving across the short distance to grip Zayn’s forearms. It was grounding to be able to touch him, to remember that Zayn was _here_ and _real_ and _safe_ in their office, warm and soft. It was enough to settle some of the anger inside, and he gentled his touch to run his hands up over Zayn’s shoulders to cup his neck. “You could’ve died, Zayn. Don’t you get that? You could’ve died, and I didn’t even —,” he was tripping over his words, his brain too full to catch up, “I couldn’t — I can’t protect you if you’re undercover, and it scares me, okay? You’ll be surrounded by people in a place I can’t reach you and where the unsub knows what you look like! There’s only so much they can change you Zayn, and it’s not enough for you to be safe.” He finally took a deep breath, his outburst over with for now,leaving him with an awkward silence. His gaze dropped to the floor, and he took a quick step back as his hands fell in the air between them, cold. “I just want to keep you _safe_ , Zayn.”

There was silence, the words hanging heavily in the air until Liam heard a shuffle, soft footsteps, and then felt a hand against his neck.

“Liam.” It was a low murmur, calm now, but Liam swore he could feel Zayn’s heart beating in his fingertips where they pressed against his neck. “I’m always going to be in danger. So are you. You can’t protect me all the time.”

Liam lifted his head and had a second to take in the softness that’d settled over Zayn’s features before he moved to rest their foreheads together. He wrapped an arm around Zayn’s waist and pulled him in, closing his eyes with a shaky breath. He knew it was this affection that made people raise their eyebrows, or make assumptions, but here in their office, away from prying eyes, they didn’t have to worry about anyone who thought they were more than best friends.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.” Liam needed Zayn to _understand_. “This is different, Zayn. This isn’t a normal assignment. It’s you walking into a situation with a serial killer that we know nothing about who knows exactly what you look like, and who’s already tried to take you down once.” Soft fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck, and Liam fought back a shiver.

“I feel like I have to do this though, Li. You know I don’t think it’s your fault, and I feel like,” Zayn huffed a breath against Liam’s face, all coffee and mint, and Liam hauled him closer to his chest, “like I have to redeem myself, make up for the fact that I was so close to them, and let them get away.”

Liam’s arms tightened around him automatically, probably almost crushing Zayn by now, but all he got was a small noise. “You didn’t let them get away babe, they knocked you unconscious.”

It was such a _Zayn_ thing to think, that he’d somehow failed in a situation he’d been unable to control, a situation that wasn’t his fault when they were dealing with an unsub that they hadn’t been prepared for. It was one of his most confusing traits, the way he wore failure almost like a scar. It slid in the blank sections of skin between his tattoos, right at the surface, even when he’d never been dealt the blow and the resulting tapestry had only manifested in his mind. He used it as motivation, and while Liam admired how strong he was, how easily he accepted his mistakes, this absolutely wasn’t one of them.

“I know that, but I didn’t even hear them.” Zayn shoved his face into Liam’s neck, and Liam was sure he’d be able to feel how fast his heart was racing. “I know it’s dangerous, okay? I know it’s a risk, but I feel like I have to do it.”

“It’s not _just_ a risk, Zayn. It’s _too_ _big_ of a risk,” Liam pulled back to look him in the eye, unwrapping his arms to hold Zayn’s waist, hands settling perfectly into the dips there. “You don’t need to prove yourself. You’re so good at your job, and I’m so lucky to get to work with you. It was _my_ fault, not yours.” Zayn tried to interrupt, but Liam just shook his head, smiling softly at him. “Don’t, please. Chewy was right. I made a bad call, and then I let my emotions get away from me, and you’d do a brilliant job undercover. I lied to Chewy. Of course you’d be incredible at it, you always are. I just didn’t know how else to get him to listen. I know I hurt you and God, that was never what I wanted. I’m _scared_ , Zayn. That’s not the point here.” His fingers flexed, and he held on tighter with a laugh when Zayn jolted. “But it’s too soon after what happened for me to be okay with it. I know I sound like a controlling boyfriend, and I _hate_ it, but I won’t be able to just sit back when I know you’re in constant danger. I can’t help it, not knowing what’s just happened to you. It has to be me, Zayn.” 

It was silent for a moment as Zayn stared down at where his hands were resting against Liam’s chest, so Liam waited, patient as always, as Zayn tried to find the best way to say what he needed to. 

“Do you think that I won’t worry about _you?_ ” Zayn’s eyes flicked up to meet his, and Liam swallowed heavily, Zayn’s eyelashes delicate against his cheeks. “It’s just as stressful for me when you go undercover, Li. I know all the same things about this case. I know what’ll happen to you if you get caught, or taken, or attacked, and that terrifies me, too.”

“But there’s a much bigger chance of something happening to you,” Liam argued, but he tried to keep his voice low in the quiet space, soothing as Zayn’s fingers tightened in his shirt. “They _know what you look like_ , Zayn. They’re smart, and sneaky, and even with a different hair colour and prosthetics, you know they could still recognise you.” He tried to hold Zayn’s gaze when his head dropped, so he lifted his hand and tilted his chin back up. “You know I’m right. Please let me do this.” 

Zayn’s skin was warm under Liam’s fingertips, stubble harsh against his jaw from where he hadn’t shaved yet, and his eyes were wide and bright, watching Liam with a concerned curiosity that made his head spin. They were always close; always touching, always soft, always wrapped up in each other, and it hadn’t been a problem for almost seven years. The problem now wasn’t that they touched, or hugged, or kissed each other on cheeks and hands, or sat pressed up against each other. 

The problem was that Liam’s fingers itched to stroke over every inch of Zayn, that he was desperate to wrap his arms around him and pull him tight against him, always, skin to skin until Liam had made him a panting mess. The problem was that now, Liam wanted to kiss Zayn breathless and explore his body with his mouth, wanted to pull him into his lap every time he sat too far away.

The problem, Liam reckoned, was that he’d been trying to push it down, had tried to ignore the onslaught of undeniable attraction and _want_ that’d been slowly building for his best friend. It was that while Anthony had been wrong when he’d assumed they were a couple, it’d cut Liam in a way he hadn’t expected when he’d needed to deny it. 

He’d always thought Zayn was attractive, would have had to have been a fool not to, but he’d thought that this part, the obvious beginnings of being in love with Zayn rather than simply loving him, wouldn’t come. He’d just assumed that the affection and respect and _care_ for him would settle in his bones and stay there, constant but stagnant, but it’d shifted, spreading through his body to fill his heart and flood his soul until it almost dragged him under. 

Liam had been naive to think otherwise, and while being this close to Zayn was something that they’d always considered normal, it was _charged_ for Liam now, electricity sparking everywhere he touched. 

Zayn was staring at him though, and Liam had to take a steady breath when Zayn’s tongue came out to wet his lips. “Okay.” Zayn relented. “We’ll talk to Anthony.” 

It was instant, the relief that started in his toes and spread through his body. He grinned, pleased when Zayn matched it, even though he rolled his eyes. 

“Thank you.”

It was all he could manage to say, despite what was roaring in his head. 

_Thank you for letting me do this, because I know I’m falling in love with you. Anthony’s right, and I’m worried, because I don’t know how far I’d go to keep you safe._

*****

They weren’t able to speak to Anthony directly. Liam had forgotten that he’d said he’d be in constant meetings, so they were left with no choice but to leave a message and then look over the files in the boardroom to prepare for their meetings. 

Liam pushed his glasses up his nose with a sigh, flipping through papers until he landed on one with a picture. It was an older man, salt and pepper hair and a sly grin, the word **SYCO** headlining the page above the photo. He squinted at it, but the quality wasn’t great, and it was slightly pixelated like a surveillance photo. Zayn was sprawled on the chair next to him, legs over the armrest and feet in Liam’s lap, his glasses perched precariously on his nose as he flicked through information about the pageant and attempted to ignore Niall’s humming across the table. 

“Don’t you have actual work to be doing, Horan?” Zayn sighed, and Liam tickled his ankle at the tone, flinching when Zayn’s foot kicked out and narrowly missed Liam’s chin.

Niall flipped Zayn off without looking at him. “I am working. I’m trying to help the two of you with all this info.”

“Incredible,” Zayn drawled, but it turned into a squeak when Liam shifted, and Zayn’s feet fell to the floor.

It pulled a smirk out of Liam as he sat up properly, spreading the papers out across the desk to get a better overview. They’d been reading all afternoon, trying to gain a better understanding of the community they were about to insert themselves into, but it was a complex environment with seemingly a lot of rules and tricks. Liam thought he had a solid handle on it now though.

“Alright, so our meeting on Friday is with the head of Syco, the company that runs the pageants.” He used the clicker next to him to bring up the files on the projector. “His name’s Simon Cowell, and he’s been running them for the last 20 years.” The slides clicked through a couple of images, pictures of Simon at pageants and talking at what looked like a board meeting. “He used to be a contestant back when a different group organised them, until he won and dropped into the background to buy out the company and continue it on his own under the new name of Syco.”

Zayn’s nose crinkled as he tapped his pen against the desk in a slow rhythm. “He won? Seems unlikely.”

He tried to hide a grin as Niall snorted, but a giggle snuck out anyway, and he hit out at Zayn lightly, to smack him in the arm. “I mean, to be fair, he didn’t look like that at the time,” Liam gestured at the screen, “but I don’t know if he looked any better. It seems to be just as much about your personality and the way you can charm the judges. There are no photos of the contestants in Syco’s records going back further than the past five years though.” He kicked at Zayn’s foot under the desk, pleased when Zayn wrapped his foot around his ankle to keep it there. “He’s seen as a good businessman these days, and it seems like he really shifted the company into something remarkably successful. He looks like a decent guy. He helps a lot in the wider community, gives money to different charities and looks to invest quite a bit in younger people with talent. The contestants all seem to love him, and the reports we’ve gotten all seem pretty solid.”

“I haven’t done a proper background check yet, though,” Niall interrupted, leaning across the table to rest his head on the surface. “Not as in depth as I usually go, so I still need to look at some of his seedy past, if there is one.”

It was a bit of a catch twenty-two, really. If Simon’s past was littered with corruption or violence, it could mean that they had their first suspect, or at least a head start, anything more than what they had now. They’d be able to keep an eye on him right away, but they’d also be moving into a situation surrounded by danger right from the start. It wasn’t uncommon to not have any solid leads at this point in an investigation, especially something as fucked up as this, but it still made Liam anxious, the beginnings of it crawling out of his spine in tendrils that slowly threaded through his body until it was all he was made of.

“Hopefully, there’s nothing there, and we can just use his help with the case,” Liam sighed, putting the clicker down and leaving up a picture of Simon that Zayn seemed to be eyeing warily. “Chewy’s also set us up a meeting with a pageant coach on the other side of town tomorrow, an L. Tomlinson, no first name.”

“What does a pageant coach actually do?” Niall interrupted as he thumbed at his phone. “It kinda sounds self-explanatory, but what do they really need coaching on? I’m not tryna sound like a wanker, but aren’t they more about looking good and sounding like you care about stuff?”

Zayn rifled through some documents; colour coded in fluorescent highlighters, as he tapped his foot against Liam’s in a beat that Liam couldn’t follow. “Might be a bit of a misconception, but I think they can be seen as pretty toxic environments,” Zayn murmured before he pulled out a piece of paper marked with bright blue. “Ah, here. The coaching’s more about like, making sure you walk right and your tone is cheery enough when you’re answering questions,” he let his finger run down the page, dragging it slowly as Liam watched his glasses slip further down his nose. Without thinking, he reached out to push them back up Zayn’s nose, and was rewarded with a smile so soft that he wanted to sink back into his chair. “They help with your appearance too, and style and etiquette.” He put the paper back carefully and shot Liam an incredulous look. “Pretty in depth. Almost seems like they try and change everything about you. Do we know anything about them?”

“A fair bit, actually,” Liam nodded, ignoring when Niall’s phone vibrated on the table. “I couldn’t find any first name in any of the files Chewy left on my desk, so I thought maybe it was a bit of a secret, but then I just Googled it and found her.”

Niall looked like Liam had personally insulted every member of his family in excruciating detail, his mouth open and eyebrows drawn together. “Oi! Why didn’t you ask me?” He whipped a bulldog clip at Liam, who caught it easily as Zayn rolled his eyes. “I would’ve done a better job.”

“Because according to Miriam in filing, you and Shawn were locked in the bathroom down the hall.” Liam threw the clip back at him and watched it bounce off the top of his head. “I had to come here straight afterwards, and there was no fucking way I was walking in on the two of you again. Once was enough.”

“At least give me her name now so I can do a quick background on her.”

“Lottie Tomlinson, L-O-T-T-I-E. There was a fair bit about her online, actually.” He slid the lone piece of paper he had on Lottie across the table. “She used to do a lot of pageant work herself, but she stopped last year. Won a few big titles around the UK.”

Niall was already standing though, sliding his phone in his pocket. “What time are you meeting her tomorrow? I should be back before you two go home, but just in case.”

“2 o’clock, but we’ll probably only be here for another half hour or so.” Liam stretched, arms raised above his head as his back gave a satisfying _crack_.

“Ah, I’ll be back before then. I think Shawn wanted to head off soon anyway.” He gave a quick wave and grabbed the paper to leave, and the second the door shut behind him, Zayn had scooted over to Liam and was seemingly trying to wedge his way under his arm.

Liam laughed as he lifted his arm to wrap it around Zayn’s shoulders, careful not to knock the back of his head where gauze still sat. It sparked something in the pit of his stomach, reminded him that he needed to _protect_ , and his hand lifted automatically to run through Zayn’s hair, the black strands sliding through his fingers easily as he felt more than heard Zayn hum against his neck. He’d buried his face right in there, and Liam felt him sigh as he relaxed further into his side.

It was always something that Liam tucked into his chest, this trust that Zayn put in him and the ease with which they fell into each other. He carried it with him all the time, let himself feel it when the stress of the job got too much, and Zayn wasn’t there to draw it out of him in person. It made him wonder how he’d never noticed how deep his feelings for Zayn truly ran; had it always been like this, and he just hadn’t paid it proper attention, or was it something that’d surfaced recently, a natural progression for Liam to feel this strongly? 

He tried to ignore the gauze, because all it did was remind him how he’d messed up, that Zayn had been _hurt_ because Liam hadn’t been thinking properly. It was impossible though, the reminder standing out starkly against Zayn’s skin. He tugged lightly at Zayn’s hair to get his attention, laughing softly when it made him grumble. 

“How’s your head today?” 

Zayn shifted against him, pressing impossibly closer and closing his eyes, and Liam gentled his grip to scratch at Zayn’s scalp. 

“A bit sore, throbbin’ a little bit.” He sounded exhausted all of a sudden, his accent slightly thicker, almost syrupy. It was a sure sign he was about to fall into his exhaustion, something Liam had picked up years ago. 

“Alright then, c’mon. Let’s get you home.” 

“Have ta wait for Ni.”

Liam was about to argue that he could email them the information when, just like he’d known they’d been talking about him, Niall popped his head back through the door. It’d only been 10 minutes, surely a record for a check. Niall laughed when Liam repeated the thought out loud, and passed him a single sheet of paper.

“Not much to find, mate. In her twenties, nothing suspicious that I could find. Has a big family, mostly sisters that have also been in the circuit, and a couple of brothers, one younger, one older.” Niall rattled off, looking behind him distractedly as Shawn rested his head on his shoulder. 

Liam waved at him, skimming the piece of paper. “Thanks Ni, we won’t see you tomorrow but we’ll be in Friday after our meeting with Cowell.” 

“No worries Payno, make sure you get Zayner home soon.” Niall nodded at where he was curled up against Liam, and Liam could feel him relaxing even more. “Looks like he’s about to pass out.” 

“Yeah mate, just about to leave.” Liam nudged Zayn carefully, sighing when it just made him whine. “We’ll come out with you guys, if you’re leaving now.” 

Zayn was almost like a dead weight against him when Liam tried to stand, and he would’ve been more concerned if this wasn’t how Zayn was when he was tired, and the pain from his head must’ve only been making it worse. He’d been cleared from a concussion though, so Liam just tightened his arm around his waist, and helped him walk to the lift.

They made it to the car with only a slight struggle, Shawn and Niall carrying their bags. It wasn’t that Zayn was heavy; he was deceiving in the way he carried muscle, lean and tight but strong and quick. Liam was bigger though, had supported Zayn like this too many times to count, but it was still an awkward series of movements when Zayn’s eyes were half closed. 

Liam thought about dropping Zayn back at his own house, but Zayn’s forehead wrinkled when he asked, and something in Liam made him reluctant to leave him alone. 

It was only half an hour to his house, half an hour that let Zayn nap as Liam tried to keep his eyes on the road. He carried him inside, letting him sleep, trying to keep his husky Loki away with his foot; the dog loved Zayn though, was trying to jump up to get to him, and as soon as Liam put him down on his bed, Loki jumped up with him, and snuggled against Zayn’s side to fall asleep with him. 

Liam wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, but his limbs felt stiff when he finally moved to lay down next to them. He hesitated for a moment, something he never did with Zayn because he always knew exactly what to do. In the end, he took a deep breath and let himself lay down quietly, stroking Loki’s long fur and pushing Zayn’s hair from his eyes whenever he moved in his sleep. 

So he stayed even longer, until the sun went down and his own eyes got tired, and if he happened to curl up and have his own nap, arm slung over Zayn’s waist, well. 

No one else needed to know. 

*****

Zayn was gone.

Liam had _just_ been with him, had _just_ been able to see him. He’d been fine, god he’d been just there, and now he was _gone_ , and Liam’s palms were sweating and he couldn’t really see for some reason and _fuck_ , where was Zayn?!

God, what if he’d been _taken_? What if he’d been stabbed, or shot, or _killed_? Fuck, Liam couldn’t _see_ him.

His palms were too sweaty to hold his gun properly, his hands trembling and his vision blurred and all he knew was that this was his fault somehow, that he’d let this happen and now Zayn was going to die because he’d fucked this up and - .

There was a bloodcurdling scream that cut to his core, so clearly coming from Zayn that Liam was running before he even realised, pushing aside obstacles that kept appearing from nowhere, blocks and poles and shapes and everything was _too much_ , he wasn’t going to get there in time.

He was made of pure panic now, no air in his lungs as he struggled to reach Zayn, lightheaded and dizzy and not enough, _never enough_.

“Liam! Liam, please!”

His heart was beating too fast, he was moving too quickly, and his breaths were too short, but Zayn sounded terrified and the only thing that mattered was keeping him _safe_.

“Liam! Li, it’s me, just me, come on.”

There were hands on him, trying to pull him, stop him, keep him from Zayn, but the more he pushed them off, the stronger they clung.

“Fuck babe, I’m right here, c’mon, Leeyum!”

He flailed the second his eyes snapped open, colliding with a solid body but all that mattered still was making sure Zayn was okay. Liam grabbed them, flipping them over so he could put all his weight on the stranger, his legs spread over their hips and squeezing to keep them still. He fumbled in the dark as he waited for his eyes to adjust, finding their wrists and holding them to the ground above their head. It was softer than he’d anticipated, because he could’ve sworn it was concrete earlier, easier for Zayn to get _hurt_ on, but now it felt like he was cushioned. He blinked and shook his head, trying to focus on Zayn’s voice, pleading in the way it kept repeating Liam’s name, and then he realised it was coming from directly below him.

“Liam, hey, it’s alright, _hey,_ I’m fine.”

Zayn’s face swam into his vision then, frightened and wide eyed and beyond concerned, but he still couldn’t focus properly, only had just enough of his wits about him to let go of Zayn’s wrists, as quick as though he’d been burned, and shift back slightly.

It didn’t make sense; Zayn had been _missing_ and now he was _here_ , under Liam but at least undeniably safe from anyone else, and everything was swirling in a mess of flushed cheeks and pounding hearts. He couldn’t seem to stop his hands from rubbing up and down his own thighs, trying to ground himself as he felt Zayn wriggle out from under him and sit up, and then there were familiar hands on his face, and Zayn was right in front of him, clear as day.

“Liam, I need you to take deep breaths, okay?” Zayn was staring at him, and all Liam could do was stare back. “Follow my breathing, yeah? 1, 2, 3, that’s it, just watch my chest move.”

He could see Zayn’s t-shirt moving with the movements of his body, in and out, in and out as he murmured soft words to Liam in between his breaths. Liam concentrated enough to follow the breaths with his own until they’d synced, and his hands slowed, resting on his thighs as Zayn just kept up his purposeful breathing. Zayn’s hands were warm on his cheeks, keeping Liam from floating until everything slowly cleared, and he realised he was in his bedroom, the walls cream, the sheets against his skin navy; the potted plant in the window, Loki standing guard at the foot of the bed.

Liam blinked rapidly, his body moving without permission until his arms were around Zayn’s waist, hauling him against his chest and shifting until Zayn was straddling his lap. He was safe, Liam could see now; they both were, just in Liam’s bed after an awful nightmare, but the realisation didn’t stop the thrumming need to _protect_ that was screaming in his mind. All that mattered was that Zayn was here, and he was okay, and Liam could finally breathe again.

Fingertips were drumming a soft pattern on the back of his head where Zayn had grabbed to steady himself, and Liam just let his eyes close as he kept his breathing steady, focusing on the warmth of Zayn in his lap. He startled when something wet nudged at his hand, but then Loki followed it with a swift lick, and Liam slid his hands to rest on Zayn’s waist.

He’d never had a panic attack before the church, and while it wasn’t uncommon for nightmares to crop up every so often from their line of work, they’d never been this bad, felt this _real_ , and they’d never involved Zayn. He’d had the same dream every night since Zayn had been attacked, but it was the first time he’d woken up with him in the same bed. Liam let his head fall forward to rest on Zayn’s collarbone, and let one last shaky breath fan over the skin under his mouth. Zayn shivered as Liam sat up again.

“Cold?” Liam’s eyebrows knitted together, and he cleared his throat when his voice cracked. Everything was settling further still, the weight of Zayn in his lap and Loki resting against his leg helping drag him back down to Earth. He let his hands slide up Zayn’s sides and around his back, too caught up in the nightmare to realise how intimate it was until it slammed into him and knocked him back off kilter.

It was different now though, not based on panic or fear, just confusion and _want_ at a completely inappropriate time. He needed two completely different things right now; to touch Zayn to remind himself he was okay, to kiss his forehead and his eyelids and his mouth and soothe the concern still on his face, but also to fling himself across the other side of the room so they weren’t touching anymore, and Liam didn’t want more than he was supposed to.

He was too shaky to even consider the second option though, so he let himself have this, and rubbed at Zayn’s arms to keep him warm.

Zayn just shot him an incredulous look though and sat back to rest against Liam’s knees. “Am I cold? No Li, I’m not cold. I’m terrified because you just started writhing in your sleep and calling out for me before you pinned me to the bed.”

Fuck. The thought that Zayn was _scared_ of him sent ice right to his core. “I just needed to keep you safe, ‘m sorry, please don’t - ,” he cut himself off, could feel the panic rising again even as Zayn shuffled back closer, “please don’t be scared of me, fuck Zayn.”

“No Li, no, shit sorry,” Zayn cursed, settling back into Liam’s arms when he held them out desperately. “No, I’m not scared _of_ you babe, just – it was a bit terrifying. Are you alright? What were you dreaming about?”

Liam took a deep breath, and just decided to be honest. There was no point in lying; Zayn had literally seen it. “I couldn’t find you. I could hear you calling out for me, but I didn’t see you and I could just feel that something awful was happening.”

They sat in silence for a moment as Liam avoided eye contact and stared at the ink marking Zayn’s neck, Zayn’s fingertips threading into Liam’s curls.

“Is this the first time?”

“No.” It was quiet. “Every night since the church.”

Zayn made a slightly wounded noise before Liam’s head was being tugged up to look at him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Zayn – .

“No, Liam. It wasn’t your _fault_ ,” Zayn repeated, strong and fierce, his eyes blazing as Liam tried to believe him. “I don’t blame you, would _never_ , so stop blaming yourself. Please.”

It was easier said than done when everything inside him disagreed, but Liam nodded anyway, a small smile creeping onto his face when Zayn smacked a kiss to his cheek. “Okay.”

“I’ve got the number for someone that maybe you should speak to. I’ll give it to you after I change, yeah?” Zayn climbed off him then, taking off his shirt and moving towards the bathroom as Liam looked away. “She helped me a lot after the Forrester case.”

Liam grimaced at the reminder. It’d been one of the worst cases they’d worked in their career; a man abducting and killing families, and Zayn had seen one of the children get murdered right in front of him. Liam could remember the nightmares he’d had, how Zayn had asked him to stay over almost every night for two weeks until Chewy had almost forced him to go see a psychologist. He still had bad nights, and Liam was always more than willing to stay over whenever he needed it, but he’d improved drastically.

He sighed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed as Zayn found one of his own shirts in Liam’s cupboards. “Thanks, I might.”

It wasn’t that Liam had any kind of problem with therapy or getting help. He understood how important it was for so many people, had seen it work, but he wasn’t sure it was the right choice for him. It was the vulnerability that gave him pause, the way he’d need to be so open with his thoughts and everything he felt. It was easy to do that with Zayn, but he couldn’t fathom opening up to a stranger in that way.

The apprehension in his voice apparently didn’t matter to Zayn, and Liam pretended not to see when Zayn stole his phone later to add the doctor’s number to his contacts.

*****

They definitely weren’t ready for this kind of lunch.

Chewy still hadn’t gotten back in touch with them, his meetings still going on as scheduled, and all that’d been in the file was _‘Lunch with Tomlinson at ‘Alain Ducasse at The Dorchester’. Reservation under Payne. 2pm’._ Liam supposed they could’ve looked it up to see what they were in for, but they’d just found the address and headed over. They were dressed perfectly _fine_ , suits and ties and dress shoes, but Liam still felt underdressed, like they were somewhere they didn’t belong.

They’d arrived first and been seated, Zayn charming the hostess into giving them a better table, and Liam couldn’t stop staring at the entire space. It wasn’t often he found himself in fine dining spaces; they just weren’t his style, or the type of food he really enjoyed. 

The atmosphere was never what Liam looked for either when he went out. It was dim and intimate, but incredibly quiet and still, and it made Liam feel awkward, like he was trying to squeeze himself into a world he’d never really fit into. He _could_ easily adapt to any kind of situation; it’s why he was so brilliant at undercover work. This was different, though. It was still for work, still a part of the case, but it _felt_ different, more real considering everything that had happened. It was too difficult to separate the work from his personal life at the moment, and it was a slippery slope that he needed to put a stop to; he’d seen too many agents pulled under until they had no choice but to surrender, to stop and take care of what had driven them to that point. Liam knew he was treading water, balancing the fine line that ensured he made decisions for the right reasons. Now, the right reason was Zayn.

And that was the problem.

Next to him at the table, Zayn was fiddling with his cutlery, making sure it was lined up perfectly on the table even though he was the one who had put them out of order. Liam was trying to keep an eye on the door, watching for Lottie, but with Zayn distracted, he let himself watch Zayn, too.

He had no idea how he’d gotten this far in their friendship pretending that his feelings for Zayn were nothing more than platonic. It was so clear now, like someone had just lifted a veil, something that had been there the whole time and just been hidden right on the surface, ready for him to see when the time was right.

The timing _wasn’t_ right though, not in the middle of this case, not when one of them was about to go undercover and every decision Liam made had to be the right one. He needed to use the next few weeks to redeem himself to Chewy, too. He’d worked too hard to get where he was; both him and Zayn had. He’d never forgive himself if he threw away their careers before he could talk to Zayn about everything, before he finally felt like he had himself under control enough.

Movement at the door caught his eye, and Liam hoped for a head of blonde hair. Instead, it was a man, brunet, in an expensive, well-kept suit. The suit wasn’t new, but it didn’t look like it’d been worn much; an important meeting then, maybe an interview. He was holding himself with confidence, head high but his smile kind; attractive with his high cheekbones and sharp jaw, and like he knew it but didn’t flaunt it.

Liam’s gaze flicked around the room again, taking in the beard Zayn had apparently decided he was going to grow, and the intricate dangling curtain of lights in the middle of the restaurant. He got so distracted by the latter when he realised there was a _table_ hidden in there that he didn’t notice the hostess until she was right next to him.

“Sirs, Mr. Tomlinson is here for you.” She smiled politely, nodded to the man Liam had seen at the door, and left.

Liam turned to look at Zayn, but he was already staring at him, confusion etched into his features. Maybe Lottie had sent her brother instead, a last-minute switch that had needed to happen and there hadn’t been enough time to let them know. He shook his head and stood, hand outstretched. He was somehow more intimidating up close, but only in the easy way he exuded confidence. Liam shook his hand, his grip sure and firm.

“Hello sir, I’m Special Agent Liam Payne, and this is Special Agent Zayn Malik.” Liam gestured to Zayn as the two of them shook hands, and then all three of them sat. “I apologise, we were expecting your sister, but I’m sure you must be just as capable to assist.”

The man slowed his movements, putting his napkin carefully on his lap as he looked curiously at Liam. “Why were you expecting my sister? If you want to talk to someone who has experience actually competing in pageants, I can call her, but if you want training, it’s me, for sure.”

“The brief we got said L. Tomlinson, so we were expecting Lottie,” Zayn explained, and Tomlinson just looked more confused.

“ _I’m_ L. Tomlinson.” His mouth was slowly stretching into a grin, and he let out a tinkle of a laugh that had Liam feeling more comfortable. “’m Louis. Louis Tomlinson, pageant coach? Lottie’s brother?” He was drawing out his words as if it would make it easier for them to understand, and Liam suddenly felt like an idiot.

He might kill Niall.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, sir.”

Louis was grimacing though, poking his cutlery with a raised eyebrow. “Call me Louis, mate. None of this ‘sir’ shit, Special Agent Payne.”

“Only if you call me Liam.”

His sudden grin was sharp. “No can do. Yours is different, innit? More of a proper title. Don’t want to get arrested.” He picked up his menu, flipping through it easily as Liam simply stared. He was a bundle of energy, but somehow contained, overwhelming but solid all at once, and Liam wasn’t sure he’d ever met anyone like him. “This place is proper fancy, don’t even know what half of this is.”

Zayn was smiling, something Liam could see he was trying to hide, and it was easy to understand why. Louis was like a force of nature already, shifting in his chair and drumming his fingertips on the table. Liam hadn’t expected anyone this young with the amount of experience they had, even when they’d found out how young Lottie was, and Louis seemed almost uncomfortable here too, like the three of them should’ve just been catching up at a pub instead.

Although.

Maybe it wasn’t such a ridiculous thought. This wasn’t some 60-year-old businessman who settled into this lifestyle with ease, or even a 35-year-old man who was trying to impress them. It was just someone who’d been dragged to the same expensive place they had and didn’t know how to deal with it.

Liam cleared his throat and it seemed to echo in the dining room. “How about we go somewhere else?”

Louis was standing before he’d even finished talking, throwing his napkin onto the table. “Thank fuck, there’s a place just down the road. Let’s go!” The two of them just stared after him as he strolled across the restaurant, stopping at the door to look back at them with a raised eyebrow. “Well? Are you coming?”

There was a snort of laughter from Zayn, and Liam just nodded at Louis, apologising to the waitress as they hurried out after him. As soon as they were outside, Louis stopped them both with a hand in the air, and just looked. Liam fought the urge to cover his body with his arms.

“So, it’s you that’s doing this, right?” Louis took a step back, looked Zayn up and down, and quirked an eyebrow.

Zayn bristled, and Liam stepped up behind him and put a soothing hand on the small of his back.

“Problem, mate?” Liam asked, and the sudden, simmering anger was clear.

“On the contrary _mate_ ,” Louis answered with a wide grin, his head tilting slightly, “he’s exceptionally pretty.”

“He’s also standing right here,” Zayn added wryly, and Liam felt him jolt and then settle when he slid his fingers around to dig into Zayn’s waist. “Why do people always talk about me when I’m right there?” He complained, then looked at Louis. “But it almost might be Liam. It’s complicated, but we’re still trying to hammer out some of the details.”

Louis shrugged and started walking, leaving Liam and Zayn to catch up. “That’s fine, I can work with either of you.” He weaved easily through the crowded streets, darting through a group of teenagers as Liam let go of Zayn to move around them instead. “Don’t worry though, Special Agent Payne.” Louis stopped at a pub on the corner, looking back at Zayn, who was stuck behind a slow-moving group of women, with a glint in his eye. “He’s not my type.”

And then he pushed open the door with a wink and stepped inside, leaving Liam frozen on the street until Zayn, oblivious, brushed past him with a gentle touch to his arm.

The pub was exactly what Liam needed, what they’d all needed to loosen up a bit and have the conversations they needed to. They’d managed to slide into a booth and shed their jackets, and as soon as Louis had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, Zayn had brightened at the ink that covered his arm. They’d all wasted a solid half hour after that, throwing tattoo stories back and forth, comparing designs and laughing at the regrets they had about them. Louis had managed to buy a round of beers at some point in the first hour, and it felt too much like they were just mates catching up after work. They didn’t have to head back into headquarters today, and the line was getting blurrier by the second, this tug of war between his work and personal life, but it was easy when Louis made them feel comfortable enough to forget about it, like they’d just made a new friend instead.

It wasn’t until Louis called him by his title that they all seemed to remember why they were there, and Liam sat up straighter, pushing his pint glass away.

“How did you end up in pageants, Louis?”

Louis scoffed, chuckling around his pint glass before he put it down, wiping his hands on his suit pants. “Well, my sisters used to be in pageants, for years. I never wanted to do it, you know? Just used to tag along with ‘em from when I was 10 and Lottie started juniors. It was a gradual thing, the way that I fell in love with the whole show.” He paused, running his finger along a groove in the table. “And I did. I loved it. I loved the theatrics and the costumes, the makeup and the talents. I loved the frantic pace behind the scenes and the calmness on stage, almost as if everything was always like this and someone hadn’t lost a diamante backstage three minutes earlier, or had to reapply their mascara at the last second because the pressure had made them burst into tears. It was all such a _performance,_ you know? Just a constant act.”

He looked almost wistful, an undercurrent of sadness seeping through his words in a complete contradiction to the colourful image he was painting. Liam glanced at Zayn to find him already looking at him, and the corner of Zayn’s mouth turned down slightly before he spoke.

“But you never took part?”

“Never,” Louis quickly replied, and took another swig of his beer. “I never wanted to be on stage, and I wouldn’t have been quite right for it anyway. I used to get bored though, so mum let me wander around backstage. One day, I just started following around one of the coaches, listened to the way she spoke and the advice she gave. I took it back to Lottie, and it was the first time she won.” Louis smiled then, small and private. “My other sisters started wanting to do it too, and it was so much for mum that I just started coaching them. I got advice from other coaches, researched pageants and winners and created programs for them. After that, my sisters all won every pageant they were in.”

Liam made an agreeable noise, barely heard over the hum of conversations and clinking glasses that filled the pub. “We hear you’re the best.”

The light shifted in Louis’ eyes, something bright and pleased. “Fucking right, I am. I’m not even really sure how it happened. The girls just kept winning, and I just kept doing my research and staying out of the way of people that hated me.”

“People hated you?”

“Oh yeah. Tons, and not just people in the women’s competitions.” Louis finished his beer and set the glass down heavily, pushing his sleeves up again where they’d started to fall. “The competition you’re going into kept asking me to coach some of their entries, but I kept turning them down. It’s a completely different world, that.”

Zayn leaned back in the booth, pressed against Liam’s side, so he slung an arm over his shoulders, comfortable and familiar. There was no denying the curious look on Louis’ face, but Liam ignored it. “You must know a lot about it, though.”

“Too much,” Louis laughed, but it was monotonous and slightly self-deprecating. “It’s hard to explain, but it eats you alive in a different way. There’s more pressure, and they’re owned by totally different companies, so the atmosphere and the way they…do things is just different.”

Liam furrowed his eyebrows, unconsciously running his knuckles along Zayn’s arm. “Bad different?”

Louis shrugged, but his eyes followed the movement of Liam’s hand. “Just different. Don’t worry, I still know how it all works. It’s only been a year since I’ve been out of it.”

It was an odd answer, considering they needed to know as much as possible. Liam studied Louis carefully; he most likely looked relaxed to an outsider, someone who hadn’t been trained like Liam had, but his fingers were restless, fidgeting with the delicate fringe that swept across his forehead even though it wasn’t out of place. His eyes were darting around the room, settling briefly on random things until they shifted again, and his foot was tapping under the table.

Definitely hiding something then, just unwilling to trust them enough yet to tell them. Not necessarily something that he thought was serious enough to really matter yet, but Liam knew they’d need to get it out of him sooner or later. They _needed_ him to trust them though, because this went both ways, and if he pushed it, there was the chance Louis would shut down completely. He couldn’t risk it.

“We trust you.” It was simple, but effective when Louis’ foot stopped under the table. “Why did you give it up? If you were so successful, why stop?”

It was almost as though Louis had somehow built a literal wall, the way he shut off so quickly. His eyes went dark and he froze, and Liam felt Zayn stiffen up slightly, ready to help if he needed to, because it looked like Louis was about to be sick.

Louis simply shrugged though, but it looked like it took serious effort. “Just got forced out. Simple enough.” He seemed to shake himself then, and it was clear the conversation was done when he stood and grabbed his jacket. “Alright lads, I have to go to another appointment, but this has been lovely.” Louis smiled, and even though it lacked the sunlight it had all day, Liam could tell it was genuine. “I’ve got your numbers, so I’ll text you the address tomorrow so we can get started. We really don’t have enough time, and if I’m training both of you to start with, we need as much time as we can get. It was great to meet you, Special Agents Payne and Malik.” And then with a cheeky salute and a wink, he was leaving, and Liam had no idea what the fuck had just happened.

“Well,” Zayn spoke suddenly, shattering the silence that Liam had been sitting in, “that was fucking weird.”

Liam hummed in agreement, letting his arm drop when Zayn slid out of the booth. “We need him to trust us before he’ll open up, I think.” As soon as Liam grabbed their jackets, Zayn seemed to trip over nothing but air, and Liam caught him just before he smashed his chin into a corner. “This is gonna be harder than I thought, if you have to do this.”

Zayn whacked him on the arm and laughed, walking ahead of him out of the bar, but all Liam could think about was the quick way Louis had shut down, and he wondered if Niall could look into it. 

*****

10am at the address below. Wear comfortable clothes.

He’d Googled the address when Louis had sent him the message and found a dance studio just south of the city. Zayn was apparently already in that area at the hairdressers, so Liam hadn’t needed to pick him up, which was obviously not a problem, but he was twitchy this morning. The nightmare had come back just as strong, just as intense, and he’d noticed the difference this morning, not having Zayn there with him when he woke up.

It hadn’t mattered before when he’d woken up alone, because he hadn’t known what he’d been missing. Now though, it felt like every cell was screaming for Zayn, like even though he’d spoken to him on the phone, he needed to actually see him, actually touch him to calm the raging swell of panic that he kept having to swallow back.

Niall hadn’t been able to find anything on Louis apart from the standard; 27, born and raised in Doncaster, moved to London a few years ago. He worked as a freelance graphic designer full time in the city, was quite successful in his work, and seemed to spend a lot of time back home when he could. There’d been nothing to suggest any kind of argument or spat with anyone involved in the pageant community, so they’d chalked it up to a personal issue that they’d deal with if it became relevant.

There was no use in pushing it; they needed Louis to come to _them_ , to open up when he was ready, if he needed to. The worst thing, Liam thought, would be to force it out of him, which could result in Louis not wanting to help anymore, and they’d have lost the best person in the business to help them.

He pulled into the parking behind the studio and jogged up the steps, about to find someone to ask where Louis was when he heard Zayn’s cackle, unmistakably him, from down the hall. Liam followed the sound as it was joined by music, an odd, classical piece that managed to just be louder than Louis’ shouts of ‘alright Malik, head higher! No, honestly you’re like a baby swan’.

It was apt; Zayn was beautiful and graceful when the time called for it, but he was clumsy sometimes too, like he couldn’t get his feet under himself properly. Liam pulled open the door, a wide grin already on his face, and when both turned to look at him, he almost keeled over.

He’d known Zayn had been at the hairdressers, but he hadn’t really put a lot of thought into what he might’ve done.

His hair was _grey_ , a soft, cool tone that contrasted beautifully with the black of his beard. He was wearing a newer pair of his glasses; Liam’s favourites, a dark tortoise shell pair with only half a frame at the top. His piercings were in, the small stud in his nose glinting under the bright lights in the room, and the white t-shirt and black joggers he had on softened him even further. Liam knew he was gawking, standing in the doorway still gripping the handle, but not even Louis cutting off the music pulled him out of it.

Zayn looked almost nervous as he stared back at Liam, which was _ridiculous_ , because Liam had seen him in an infinite number of ways; geared up for a raid, dressed up for a date, wearing a suit for a wedding or a tuxedo for a banquet dinner for work. He’d seen him casually on the weekends and right after he woke up, and he was always gorgeous, always the most stunning person in a room.

Right now though, he looked so beautiful that Liam swore he could almost feel the door handle giving way under his hand, the cool of the metal the only thing dampening the rush of heat that felt like it’d destroyed all rational thought and burnt any reasoning to the ground. The remaining ash was sticking to his tongue, flooding his veins and settling in his stomach so that the love he felt was spread everywhere, overwhelming and so constant that he didn’t know how to get rid of it. It was all just too much, to only recently realise how he felt, and then face Zayn every day without just letting the words break out of his mouth and settle into the air between them.

He forgot about Louis, forgot why they were there, and forced himself to walk, _calmly_ , over to Zayn. There was no stopping his hand when it lifted to card through Zayn’s hair, soft between his fingers as Zayn nuzzled into the touch, the relief instant on his face.

“Do – ah, do you like it?” Zayn still sounded hesitant, and _no, why, perfect._ “I thought it’d look sick, but they had to leave the back and sides long still because of the injury, and Anthony said that they’d need to change my hair anyway, so I – .”

“Zayn,” Liam cut him off, hand still drifting lightly through Zayn’s hair, “it looks amazing, babe. Honestly. You look,” he struggled with his words for a moment, trying to shove the inappropriate ones to the back of his throat, “beautiful.”

Ultimately, not much better. They were always casual with their words, compliments rolling off the tongue and giving way to an easy banter, maybe earning a wide smile, a hand batted at them, or a soft blush, but this was different. Liam had never called Zayn beautiful before, at least not to his face, and while the smile and blush and touch were still there, they all lingered. It was a shy smile now, a soft hand down Liam’s arm, a bright red flush to Zayn’s cheek that Liam was sure would feel warm if he cupped his face.

He didn’t though, had already given too much away from the look on Louis’ face, and he stepped back with a slightly awkward cough.

“Thanks, Li.” Zayn shot him a wider grin, his tongue pressed behind his teeth, and ran his hand through his hair, right where Liam’s had been. Liam needed to get a _grip_ on himself _._

A loud clap startled him, and then Louis’ voice boomed through the space.

“Alright alright, yes, Special Agent Malik looks very pretty but can we focus please?” Amusement played around his features, eyes bright and smile too wide. “We have so much to do, especially since one of you is going undercover in literally two days. I don’t think you understand how much goes into this shit.”

 _Two days_. They’d only had the case for a week, but Liam could’ve sworn it was longer, the hours dragging on to become weeks in his head. Normally before an assignment, there was a jumbled pile of nerves and readiness, the desire to prove himself perched perilously atop it all. It wasn’t that all of that wasn’t still there; his burning need to catch the unsub, to put a stop to this before any more innocent lives were taken. He loved being undercover, loved the pressure and the danger, loved the challenge of it all. All of that was just slightly buried now, under the desire to _protect_ , his nerves taking hold in the shape of being away from Zayn, because regardless of which one of them ended up doing this, Liam couldn’t protect him, probably wouldn’t even really be able to contact him.

It made his stomach twist and his heart race, made his palms sweat and his throat dry, and he really had chosen the worst time for this kind of revelation.

“Okay, what do you need us to do?” Liam looked around the room, taking in the mirrored wall and the barre that hopefully he wouldn’t need to use. It was simple enough, wooden floors and a speaker in the corner, what looked like a phone plugged in to play the music Liam had heard earlier. There were a few chairs along the wall where Louis was sitting. “How do you know this place? Are you a dancer?”

Louis let out a bark of a laugh and shook his head. “Nah mate, but my sisters are. For a couple of them, it’s their talent, so I asked the school if I could borrow the room for the morning.” He stood then and moved to the speakers. A softer song started playing, quieter now and more modern, but Liam couldn’t place it. “I used to be here so much it was almost like a second home.” It was wistful, slightly sad, so Liam let Louis sit in his memories for as long as he needed.

Zayn padded over to him, pushing against his side until Liam slung an arm around his shoulders. “He’s been trying to teach me how to walk properly all morning,” Zayn whispered with an exaggerated shiver, and Liam stifled a giggle. “It’s fuckin’ hard babe, just you wait.”

“I did hear him call you a baby swan.”

Zayn hummed. “Weird insult, that.”

Louis seemed to snap back into focus at the comment. “It’s not an insult! It’s a backhanded compliment.”

“How is that a compliment?” Liam rubbed his hand down Zayn’s back and stepped over to join Louis in the middle of the room.

“A _backhanded_ compliment,” Louis corrected him, shaking his arms and legs like he was warming up, and Liam hadn’t really been prepared for a lot of physical activity. “Like, he’s pretty and I’m sure people think he’s very cute, and there’s the _potential_ for him to be graceful as fuck, but right now he’s clumsy and I’m worried he’ll trip over his own feet if he runs too fast.”

Liam let out a triumphant noise as Zayn strolled over to stand on Louis’ other side. “That’s what I thought you meant when I heard you say it!”

“Oddly enough, Liam, that doesn’t make me feel loads better.” Zayn was frowning slightly, arms crossed over his chest, but the light in his eyes showed the mirth laced through his words.

“Now,” Louis started, looking at them both, face suddenly serious. “I need you both to understand. Pageants are _hard work_. I know everyone just thinks of them as toxic, and that they’re filled with egotistical pricks who just want to be pretty and win something shiny, but that’s not what it is. Don’t get me wrong, some people are like that, but you’ll find that a lot of them are intelligent, funny people who just want to make a difference, and happen to be beautiful, too. It’s just as much about how you answer the tricky questions and the grace with which you hold yourself as it is about what your body looks like in a swimsuit.” He moved in front of them, fixing them with a hard stare. “There’s some fucked up sides to pageantry, bitching and backstabbing and numerous other things, but you can’t go into this thinking you know what everyone will be like. I’m here to teach you how to stand, how to walk and how to speak. I’ll be there choosing your clothes and costumes and instructing the hair and makeup artists, but I can’t fix any broken attitudes. I _need_ whichever one of you ends up doing this to be positive about the whole thing and _really_ try, because there’s only so much I can do, otherwise.”

Liam had never really considered how much work they’d need to do, how much he’d need to learn and how little time they had, but instead of it making him wary, the words sent a thrill through him. “Do we have enough time to learn all of that?”

“No.” It was a simple statement, but effective. “Absolutely not. There’s no other option, though. I’ll do the basics here today, but I’ll have to keep training you while you’re undercover. It’ll be a lot of sleepless nights I think, but it’s necessary since you need to make it far. The judges can’t know you’re undercover, so you need to actually make it to the finals. Alright, I want both of you to do a slow spin for me,” Louis announced, twirling his hand in the air. “I need to see how you generally hold yourself, and honestly, it’d be better if you were both shirtless. I know it sounds like a line, but I promise I’m actually very professional when it comes to this kinda thing.”

They’d only just started, and it was already turning into the longest morning of Liam’s life. He sighed though and lifted his shirt over his head, trying to be quick about it. He’d never been confident in how he looked, even when he’d bulked up or when people gave him compliments. They all seemed hollow, and Liam had just never been overly comfortable in showing off any part of himself. It wasn’t so bad here; Zayn had seen him before, and Louis was only one person, but he was purposefully putting himself up to be judged, and the thought made him shrivel into himself slightly.

“Special Agent Payne.” Louis sounded not quite exasperated, but close to it, like he was purposefully softening his voice to try not to be an arsehole. “I have no idea why you have any qualms with your body, or why either of you do, but rest assured, this is almost a clinical thing for me. I’ve seen more half naked men than you’ve probably had hot dinners, but I promise I’m not going to objectify you or anything. This is purely to see what might need to be different for the pageant, and the beauty expectations there are incredibly different to real life.” Louis patted Liam’s forearm and gave it a light squeeze. “I assure you, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the way you look, at all. Pageants are just a different world, and I’m here to help you fit into it. That’s all.”

Liam let out a shaky breath and met Zayn’s eyes in the mirror. They were warm and kind and concerned, so typically Zayn that Liam felt his body relax, his arms falling to his sides; and a quick glance at Louis showed that he was waiting patiently, a contradiction to the way he seemed to do everything else.

“Right, sorry.” Liam cleared his throat and dropped his gaze.

Louis waved him off though, moving to stand in front of him. “Don’t apologise. It’s not your fault that society’s standards for men are fucked. Can I touch you?”

“I – yes?”

“Are you sure?” Louis raised an eyebrow. “Because you don’t sound sure and it’s not a problem if you don’t want me to touch you. I won’t do it without consent.”

“No, you definitely can,” Liam smiled at him, pleased when the corner of Louis’ mouth twitched. “Thank you for asking.”

“It’s common human decency, but you’re welcome. Alright, I’m gonna touch you now. Not inappropriately, I just need to - ah,” Louis lightly grabbed his shoulder, pushing and pulling and turning Liam until he’d apparently seen enough. He let go with a light pat to his chest. “Thank you, Special Agent Payne. You can put your shirt back on.”

Liam sighed, reaching for his shirt as he watched Louis repeat the same thing with Zayn. “Please call me Liam, Louis.”

Louis just hummed. “Sorry, no can do. I was told I had to call you by your titles, so here we are.”

“Who told you that? Surely the fact I’m asking you not to is reason enough to switch,” Liam argued, frustrated at Louis’ insistence at formality, but more annoyed at the fact that Zayn was putting his shirt back on and he hadn’t even thought to sneak a glance.

“You would think so but let me work up to it. I’ve learned not to push back against authority.” Louis shifted to stand in between them again, a thoughtful look on his face, but he continued before Liam could question it. “Alright, there’s not a lot we’d have to change. Special Agent Payne, there’s a few beauty based things we’d need to do, hair removal and a haircut,” Liam heard Zayn whine, “but your posture is excellent, and I think you’ve got the personality for it all. Special Agent Malik, similar things would probably need to be done for you, like getting rid of that atrocious beard, but your posture and the way you move would need to be worked on.” Louis was frowning, thumb stroking over his own chin as he thought. “You’re a bit more closed off, and that’s not a bad thing in real life, so don’t get your knickers in a twist. Part of pageants is winning over the judges, and you have to be a bit bubbly and upbeat and I think it’ll be easy to see through the act with you.” He spun between them, confusion still etched on his face. “Why is it still undecided which one of you is going to participate? The pageant is so soon.”

Zayn told Louis what’d happened, but Liam interrupted when Zayn tried to make sure they both took the blame for the church. It was one thing for MI5 to know Liam had fucked up, one thing for his team and bosses to be aware of, but it was different with someone on the outside. Civilians didn’t understand the work they had to do, and couldn’t understand really, so it felt more vulnerable explaining it to Louis, more exposing. The words almost got stuck in his throat when he explained that Anthony had been furious, how Liam was surprised that he hadn’t faced any real disciplinary action, but Louis just listened, his only tell when his eyes widened at what happened to Zayn.

“I wondered about the back of your head,” Louis mused, poking his head around to look at Zayn’s wound, “but, and no offence Special Agent Malik, why the fuck is this even up for debate then? They’ll recognise you as soon as they see you, if they got that close.”

“They want to add putty to my face, and I’ve dyed my hair,” Zayn argued, but there was absolutely no fight in it, and Liam thought he looked almost relieved.

Louis laughed, loud and slightly condescending. “Mate, I reckon I’d be able to tell you apart in a line-up even if they somehow gave you a completely different face. I think it’d be almost impossible for you to win like that too, because your features are so striking that if they changed everything, I don’t know how you’d look.”

“You think my features are striking?”

“Don’t fish for compliments, Malik.” Louis gently slapped him on the cheek, and Zayn winked back at him.

It felt oddly like winning, to hear someone agree with him, someone who understood what they were throwing themselves into. Liam had been thinking it while Louis was talking, that it’d be too difficult under the bright lights and constant scrutiny to keep Zayn looking different enough that the unsub would have no idea who he was.

Still, something ugly settled under Liam’s ribcage at the easy way he’d seen Louis and Zayn interact, the easy touches and the shift to ‘Malik’ that’d just happened. It was stupid; they were all working together, and Liam really liked Louis so far, found him intelligent and charming, funny and caring, but he couldn’t completely tamp down the wave of jealousy that crashed against his heart. He knew it was ridiculous, but that didn’t make it any easier to get rid of.

He shifted on his feet, awkward and out of place. “So, what do you think we should do?”

“It has to be you, I think,” Louis frowned, and his foot was tapping on the wooden floor. “Not just because it’s a fucking stupid idea to send Malik in, which I’m sure you realised on your own, but also because I think it’ll be easier to train you. Sorry mate,” he turned to look at Zayn, who’d thrown himself on the floor apparently, “but he has more natural grace and poise.”

Zayn flipped Louis the bird, his eyes still closed. “Rude, but also,” he squinted, one eye open, “already knew it. I’m relieved you think so too, to be honest. The more you spoke about it, the more I didn’t know how I’d manage it. We’ve been trying to get hold of our boss Anthony to tell him to switch us, because he wants me in there, but I think it’ll have more weight coming from you.”

“Absolutely,” Liam added, moving to sit beside Zayn on the floor, leaning back on his hands. “If you tell him it’ll be harder to get Zayn trained up in time, he almost won’t have no choice but to switch it.”

Louis stood over both of them, and Liam could see a little triangle tattooed on his ankle where his jeans were rolled up. “Should I give him a call, or go in and see him? Could we maybe go together? Double team him.” Louis kicked at Liam with his foot.

“Please don’t talk about double teaming my boss,” Zayn groaned, rolling over and leaning his head against Liam’s thigh. Liam snorted, bringing one hand up to card through Zayn’s hair, a warmth in his stomach when Zayn hummed and pressed into it.

“Hey, don’t judge! Maybe he’s into it.” Louis sat down with them now, nudging Zayn with his toe.

Liam twirled some of Zayn’s hair between his fingers. “Doubt he would be. He’s straight. Married with a couple of kids and everything. You could come in with us, I think he’ll be back in the office after our meeting this afternoon.”

“Ah well,” Louis sighed, falling onto his back and sliding his hands under his head. “I can do that. I’m free for ages after this. Oh, we can’t forget. We have to give you a fake name.”

He hadn’t even thought of it. Normally MI5 gave them a fake name, something generic and standard, but Liam hadn’t even asked yet. He waved his hand lazily, ignoring Zayn’s disgruntled noise from losing his head pats. “The department will give me one.” He dropped his hand back to Zayn’s hair when he nudged against Liam’s hip with his forehead.

“Ah, even easier. Alright Payne, get up. I have to teach you how to walk properly.”

Liam looked up, his hand freezing in Zayn’s hair as he grinned. “Payne?”

“Don’t push it.”

Liam hadn’t realised just how much work went into just putting one foot in front of the other. For the rest of the morning, while Zayn happily stayed stretched out on the floor, chin in his hands, the very vision of relaxation, Liam got twisted and turned, poked and prodded by Louis as he shouted instructions.

“Straighter back.”

“Hold your chin higher, and smile mor – no, not like that, that’s terrifying.”

“Okay great, just remove the stick from up your arse and we’re set.”

“Smaller steps, this isn’t fucking hopscotch.”

The last one had confused him so much he’d almost fallen over. After a couple of hours, Zayn’s voice had finally cut through the fog in his brain that sounded suspiciously like Louis.

“As fun as this is, and I truly mean that,” Zayn held a hand to his heart, solemn expression on his face as he stood, “we should go, we have that meeting with Cowell soon.”

“Oh right. If we leave now, we should be good.” Liam turned to gather his things before remembering he hadn’t brought anything. “Louis, do you want to meet me out the front of headquarters in about two hours and – Louis?”

Louis was standing frozen at the speakers, hand half in his pocket as he stared at the wall. He seemed to have zoned out, but Liam could see his fingers twitching, like his brain was moving a mile a minute to try and figure something out.

“Louis?” Liam repeated, shooting a concerned look at Zayn as they both slowly moved closer. “Hey, are you alright?”

He seemed to shake himself out of it then, come back to himself just enough. Louis blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, yes, yeah sorry, I just,” he coughed, and his movements were jerky, “forgot about something. Are you meeting with Simon Cowell?”

There was still something unsettling, something that Liam wasn’t sure how to approach and didn’t know where to start. “Yeah, do you know him? We have to meet with him because he runs it all.”

“Oh no, I know he does, I just forgot for a moment,” Louis forced out a laugh, and then he was gathering all of his things with a speed that Liam could barely keep up with. “Alright, okay, I’ll meet you at headquarters in an hour –.”

“Two,” Liam interrupted slowly.

“Right, two hours. See you lads later.” And then he was out the door without even a wave, leaving both of them staring after him.

It was Zayn who spoke first. “Reckon there’s something there?”

“Absolutely.”

*****

There was something undeniably _off_ about Simon Cowell.

Liam had been trained in profiling, had spent years attempting to perfect it, and even though it was an ever-changing skill, it’d always been one of his honed skills.

Cowell was a completely different story.

He’d felt uneasy the second he’d stepped into the building, and a quick glance at Zayn had shown he’d felt the same. The building was all white and glass, the only colour the grey and black accented furniture, and the bright red hair of his secretary. She’d introduced herself as Annie, her painted nails matching her hair as her fingers played coyly along her lip, her eyes trained on Zayn.

Liam already disliked her.

Simon was on a phone call, she’d explained, and then she’d taken it upon herself to provide every detail about the pageant’s partnership with Maybelline. Liam had nodded in all the right places, given small smiles and made appropriate affirming noises while Zayn had wandered around the lobby. As soon as she disappeared to check on Simon, Zayn was right back.

“Find anything weird?” Liam murmured, trying to keep his voice low in case anyone was listening. He tried to reason with himself that no one would be, that maybe Louis’ demeanour had put him on edge, but there was something _too_ clean about it all, everything in its place, everything too _perfect_.

Zayn looked frustrated, the volume of his voice matching Liam’s even as he kept looking around. “Nothing, but I wasn’t expecting to.”

The sound of a door opening caught their attention, and Annie’s voice rang out through the foyer. “Agents? He’s ready for you.”

The walk to Simon’s office was almost no better. There were black and white pictures of Simon with past contestants of the pageant, but they were placed oddly, like there were pictures missing, the years jumping around erratically, and Liam wrinkled his nose at how disorganised it looked. The most disarming thing about them all though was that in every photo, Simon looked almost the same, the same smile etched onto his face.

It was the exact smile that greeted them when they walked into his office.

Liam tried to take in as much of the space as he could; the design the same as the lobby, no personal pictures or plants, no knick knacks on his desk and nothing personal there. There was an odd painting on the wall, all in shades of grey, and the only colour in the room came from the green in Simon’s tie. He tried to match everything with the description of Simon they’d been given; caring and genuine, helpful and motivating, but there was nothing here that signified any of it.

“Gentlemen! Lovely to meet you, please come and sit.” Simon grinned at them, sharp and pointed, and Liam almost felt Zayn flinch as they shook his hand.

“Thank you for having us, sir. I’m Special Agent Malik, this is Special Agent Payne.”

Liam noticed when Annie slid back into the room, a mug and sandwich in her hand. She was staying in the corner though, but she was the easiest thing in the room to read. Her eyes were bright and wide, her expression soft with a smile on her face as she stared at her boss. She must’ve been 30 years his junior, but there was no denying the love written across her features. He wrinkled his nose at the thought, jolting when Zayn kicked at his foot to bring him back to the man in front of them.

Simon just smiled at his obvious distraction. “Ah, the pleasure is mine! You must be Zayn, the one going undercover.” He gave him an obvious onceover, and Liam nearly leapt out of his chair. “Definitely pretty enough, how lucky!”

“Actually sir,” Zayn coughed, and Liam felt him place a calming hand on his knee, “it also might be Liam who’ll be going undercover. Our plans are still a bit up in the air.”

If Simon was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Just as lucky! What are the chances the two of you would both be perfect for it, hey?”

He was _smarmy,_ Liam thought, too much, too confident for someone who had MI5 agents in their office, regardless of why they were there. They let him prattle on, explaining the pageant, the different rounds and events, and when he started talking about how people always misjudged pageants, Liam didn’t even think before he spoke.

“Louis was just explaining some of that, actually.”

The reaction was almost instant. Simon’s face dropped before it shifted to thinly veiled fury, like they’d simply been sitting in the eye of the storm this whole time with no idea what swirled around them. Liam could tell he was trying to hold something back, trying to contain his expressions, but the smile he had was so forced that Liam was surprised he didn’t burst a blood vessel. It would’ve been fascinating if they knew what had happened.

“Louis? Louis Tomlinson?” When Zayn nodded, Liam watched Simon’s fist clench on top of his desk for a moment. “Why were you with Louis Tomlinson?”

“He’s training me,” Liam explained, keeping his voice strong.

Simon’s fingers were tapping now, restless. “Could you not have found someone else? I would happily have recommended any number of – .”

Zayn interrupted, and Liam caught himself just in time to stop the smirk he could feel starting on his face. “Louis is the best.”

“He _was_ the best!” Simon countered, loud in the echoey room, and everything stopped for a moment.

There was no point in arguing with Simon about it when they had no idea what had happened, and they needed him to work _with_ them. Making him angry now would do nothing but push him away. They sat and listened to Simon as he slowly came back to himself to explain the pageant, fell back into the easy persona he seemed to show the world, but the moment they got in the car to get back and meet Louis, Zayn was talking.

“What the fuck was that?”

Liam thought back to what Louis had said, the mention of something personal driving him out of the business. He tried to connect it all together as he drove them back to headquarters, Zayn just as silent in the seat next to him, but they were missing a glaring piece of information. With no real inkling of a catalyst, it was impossible to know whether Louis’ departure from pageantry had been due to Simon, or whether they hated each other for a completely separate thing. Maybe Louis had turned down Simon’s employment offers, or maybe Simon had said something about Louis’ family, or maybe it was something not even related to pageants.

The only way to know was to ask Louis themselves, to ease into the conversation in a casual way that let Louis know he could open up and be safe, be allowed to tell any story without judgement.

It slipped out of his mouth the moment they saw him again, though.

“What happened with you and Simon Cowell?”

Zayn groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Liam.”

He flinched at the shocked look on Louis’ face, realising it was the first thing he’d said to him, out in the open surrounded by people. “Fuck, sorry Louis, I didn’t mean to just blurt it out.”

Louis’ expression had shifted though to something amused. “You know, neither of you are what I expected MI5 agents to be. I’ll tell you, but not here. Later.”

By the time they’d gotten out of their meeting with Chewy though, Louis had vanished, sent out early so Chewy could speak to Liam and Zayn separately. He’d only sent Liam a message saying that he’d needed to leave, and he’d see him tomorrow because he was getting made over and to ‘be excited!’. Liam groaned and let his head fall back, both at the thought of being poked and waxed and played with, and that Louis had slipped away without talking to them about Cowell.

“Alright, mate?” Niall poked his head in the door.

Liam stretched, yawning as Niall moved into their office. “Yeah, just frustrated.”

“Anth didn’t like your idea?”

“Well, I don’t know if he liked it,” Liam responded drily, remembering how unimpressed Anthony had sounded when he’d finally agreed to let Liam go undercover. “Louis helped loads, though. There’s no point arguing with the expert that you hired.”

Niall snorted, sitting on the edge of the table. “He seems like a bit of a spitfire, that Louis. Met him when he was headin’ out. Had a good chat.”

“He’s a good lad,” Liam agreed, nodding at Niall’s bag on the ground. “Heading off?”

“Yeah, date night.” He blushed through a wide grin when Liam wolf whistled, laughing and flipping him off. “Where’s Malik?”

“Bathroom.”

“Ah. You gonna tell him how you feel tomorrow?”

Liam looked around desperately, even though he knew Zayn wasn’t in the room. “You gonna shut up?” he hissed, throwing a pen at him.

He’d told Niall by accident really, let it slip out when he’d been tired and off his guard just last week, and while Niall was supportive and tried to be helpful, constantly telling him to just tell Zayn wasn’t as helpful as he thought.

“Look, Li. You’re about to go undercover, and I feel like maybe it’s a good time, yeah?” Niall jumped off the table and grabbed his bag, smacking a kiss on the top of Liam’s head on his way out. “He’s coming though, so if you’re gonna do it now, can you tell me? I wanna watch you through the windows.”

Liam groaned, ignoring Niall as he laughed, dropping his head into his hands. He heard him say good night to Zayn, and then there were fingers along the nape of his neck that made him shiver, soft and lovely.

“You alright, babe?”

He pulled back to look up at Zayn, and didn’t know how to answer. He _was_ alright, perfect actually, staring at Zayn’s soft smile and brilliant _everything_ , but he swallowed back the words that played on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah, babe. I’m good.” 

*****

The second that Liam stepped into the warehouse, the heavy door closing behind him with an echoing _thud_ , he felt uneasy. He’d learnt during his training how to properly survey a room, to pick up on every detail that otherwise might go unnoticed. The natural light seeping in through the small, high windows contrasted heavily with the bright fluorescents that overtook the vast space. It would’ve been easy to feel unprotected here, vulnerable, but his eyes landed on his team nearby, and he instantly felt a sense of relief.

There were dozens of people milling around, flitting from different stations around the room, and Liam let himself take a deep breath. There was a hairdresser fiddling with their scissors, and someone dropping what looked like _wax_ into a container. He looked desperately for someone that’d calm him, and then he saw Louis sneering at a young man standing in front of racks of clothing. _Thank God._ He recoiled slightly though as he took in the clothes, flashy patterns and bright colours, an odd shaped jacket and what looked like fluffy pants? Maybe this whole thing had been a mistake. 

Then just like that, Liam could feel Zayn’s eyes on him, knew it was him, heavy from across the warehouse, but when he looked up, his gaze was unreadable. Their team and Anthony were in a small huddle near the back door, and the only thing stopping Liam from bolting was Zayn. Liam wrinkled his nose at the slight chemical smell from whatever they were planning to do to him, something that smelled like bleach and hair dye. He made a face at Zayn when someone pushed the wax past him, and his stomach dropped when his expression didn’t change.

He knew that Zayn was uncomfortable with the entire situation, that the thought of Liam being somewhere he couldn’t be was making him antsy. Liam couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d felt when the situation had been reversed, couldn’t forget the crack in Zayn’s voice that’d hit when he’d reminded him that either way, they were both going to feel helpless in their own way. The idea still made his heart race and his stomach twist, but it was easy enough to keep eye contact with Zayn to remind himself that he was still here, still safe and protected as long as Liam was around. _Never again_ , Liam had sworn, and he’d meant it with every cell in his body.

Finally, when Louis stepped forward and whistled to get everyone’s attention, the corner of Zayn’s mouth twitched. Liam winked at him and watched as it stretched into a full grin before Zayn was shaking his head and moving to stand beside Louis.

“Alright everyone, listen up!” Louis’ voice echoed through the room easily, and everyone’s attention snapped straight to him. Liam couldn’t help but be impressed. “I wanted to make some big speech about how we have our work cut out for us and how we’ll probably be here for _hours_ and how your work is _very important_ , but realistically,” Louis paused to push his fringe back with a grin, “have you seen him? I think we’ll be alright.”

Liam felt heat rise to his cheeks when Louis pointed to him, lifting his hand in an awkward wave that made Zayn snort loud enough that Liam could hear it. Louis looked at him expectantly.

“Oh, um, thank you?” Liam shuffled his feet slightly and went to speak again until Louis held up his hand.

“You’re so welcome, Special Agent Payne. Okay, you all know what you’re supposed to do, let’s go lads!” Louis clapped twice, and then suddenly the room was a flurry of activity again.

Liam moved to go to Zayn, weaving through a group as they rushed past, but he’d only managed to make it halfway across the room when he was grabbed by the elbow and dragged away. He yelped, shooting a pleading look at Zayn, but all he got back was a grin before Louis was right in front of him, blocking his view. There were people _everywhere_ somehow, making the expansive space seem closed in and _too much_ ,

He sighed, twisting away from the hands trying to force him into a chair. “Is this really necessary, mate? I would’ve gone quietly.” He sat down with a small _oof_ when Louis shoved at his shoulders.

“Absolutely.” The noise was building up in the room again, shouting and bottles being dropped, but Louis was right back in front of him, piercing eyes and a small smirk on his face. He tugged at the bottom of Liam’s tee. “Now, shirt off please, Special Agent Payne.”

Liam shifted awkwardly, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he avoided eye contact. It wasn’t that he was _self-conscious_ , necessarily; he knew he was fit, noticed the appreciative looks from people in the gym whenever he worked out before work, but he still wasn’t completely comfortable around people he didn’t know. It’d been _okay_ yesterday in the end, because there were only two of them, but this was different. The fact that there seemed to be a small crowd around him now, staring, didn’t help at all.

“Just call me Liam, please,” he sighed, slapping away Louis’ hand and gripping his tee, fingers faltering slightly. “I just – does there need to be so many people here? Do I have to take it off?”

Louis arched an eyebrow at him, but Liam could read the silent concern underneath as Louis most likely remembered their conversation yesterday in the studio. “Well, yeah mate. Can’t exactly wax your chest if you’re wearing a shirt, can I?”

Liam’s fingers twitched in the material. “Is that really necessary?” When all he got was a firmer eye raise and a pointed look, he sighed heavily. “Fine, fine.”

It was _fine_ , it _was,_ just people who do this for a living and have probably seen hundreds of different people and body types and –

It was the threading of long fingers through his hair that finally settled him, the touch so familiar that he found himself sinking back into the chair with a hum. He closed his eyes and pushed back into the touch, that same niggling feeling spreading through him again when Zayn let out a soft chuckle behind him. It was easy to tune out the noise around them, easy to pretend that it was just him and Zayn, lose himself in the gentle touch along his scalp. He’d even managed to block out Louis, until Zayn’s voice broke through the fog in his brain.

“Do you _have_ to wax his chest?” Zayn’s voice sounded whiny, even though he’d probably never admit it, hand dropping to scratch lightly at Liam’s neck.

He shivered, ignoring the curious look on Louis’ face.

Louis huffed, obviously frustrated, and stepped back to cross his arms over his chest. “Yes, we have to wax his chest. It’s part of the whole thing, and I’m sure it’ll grow back quick enough that you can brush it to your heart’s content later.”

Liam wrinkled his nose, trying to imagine any kind of reality where Zayn would comb Liam’s chest hair. None came immediately to mind, but there was something pulsing at the back of his mind, something that had the possibility to turn this situation very awkward for him if Louis glanced down, so Liam reminded himself that the image wasn’t sexy and shoved it back, twisting his head to look Zayn in the eye.

“It’s fine, Zayn,” Liam tried to assure him, but Zayn’s fingers just tightened. “It probably won’t even hurt that much, right?” He spun back to look at Louis, who was pointedly ignoring him to swirl hot wax in a container. “Right?”

Louis made a soft noise, but didn’t respond, and the people around him scurried off to do God knows what. Liam watched the wax as Louis pulled a wooden rod out of it, watched as it fell in ribbons to blend seamlessly back into the pot. For one brief moment, Liam wanted to eat it, all toffee coloured and melty. _Forbidden snack._ A brief slap on the back of his head snapped him out of it though, and he pouted at Zayn when he moved to stand next to Louis.

“Don’t think I don’t know you well enough to know that’s your _I want to eat something that I definitely shouldn’t put in my mouth_ face,” Zayn chided gently, tugging on Liam’s hair in a way that sent sparks down his spine.

Louis snorted, and Liam glared at him when he tried to turn it into a cough. There was a smirk on his face when he spoke.

“Probably a common thing when you’re around him, hey Malik?”

Zayn muttered something then that Liam couldn’t hear, but the way it made Louis cackle almost made him happy about it. Louis seemed to recover just in time to shoot another glare at Liam though, and Liam shrunk back from the intensity of it.

Louis’ face visibly softened. “Look, Liam.” _A win_. “I know you hate the idea of all of this, but we’re not trying to change you, yeah?” He moved forward to tug at Liam’s tee again. “It’s just crucial for what you’re about to do. If we haven’t done all of this by the time the pageant starts, you’ll stick out, and not in the ways we want you to.”

He knew that Louis was right, that Liam had no idea how any of this worked, really. They’d hired him for a reason, and Liam just needed to convince himself that all he needed to do was shut up and listen at this point. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, before grabbing Zayn’s hand and squeezing it quickly. Zayn’s hand was warm and familiar, grounding and _everything_ , and Liam shook his head slightly to gather his thoughts.

“Alright, let’s just get this whole thing over with,” he muttered, but the squeeze he got back from Zayn before they dropped hands made him smile.

He whipped his tee over his head and threw it at Louis, laughing when it made him splutter, and settled back into the chair, face burning and avoiding eye contact with anyone. He heard a low whistle and groaned, but it turned into a yelp when the world seemed to fall out from under him, and he was lying flat on his back. Liam’s eyes shot open, and he lifted his head to glare at Louis. The faux innocent look on his face did nothing to take away from the fact that Liam could see his leg shift away from underneath the chair.

There was a flash, people moving, too much, blinding lights in his face that made him flinch, chair flat and making him open and vulnerable in a way he always hated. There was a twitching in his muscles that he suddenly couldn’t control, his pulse starting to race, and everything was _wrong._ There were any number of things that could happen here, and _Zayn_ – he couldn’t see Zayn, and everything from the church came _flooding_ back; he couldn’t see him, there was nothing to stop anyone from just _taking_ Zayn from him. He couldn’t see him, couldn’t even hear him, did he even have his radio on? He reached down for his gun, twisting to try and feel where it might be, but it was gone, and so was Zayn.

Breathing was too hard now, and he was sure he was panting, but it didn’t matter, not when Zayn might be _hurt_ or _worse_ , why wasn’t he answering, he always did unless something had happened to him, and suddenly Liam couldn’t move properly, all too familiar, panic seizing up his body until the only thing that mattered was making sure Zayn was okay, that he was _safe,_ that –

 _Oh_ , there it was. It was far away, but he could hear it, Zayn’s _voice._ Liam struggled to hear him properly through the fog, but he was somewhere, close by, maybe he was hurt but at least he was _here._

“ – please Liam, come on babe.” There were frantic hands smoothing over his face, cupping his cheeks, and Liam blinked his eyes open, hazy and unfocused. “Hey, I’m just here, you’re with me and Louis, everyone’s safe, I promise, c’mon love.”

Liam blinked rapidly, and everything slowed down until he realised the lights were dimmed, he was sitting up again now, and Zayn was right in front of him, Louis hovering behind his shoulder chewing on his thumb.

“Zayn?” Liam reached up and grabbed his wrist, rubbing frantic circles into the skin, and he watched as Zayn’s eyes darted over his face.

“Yeah, Li, s’just me. Can you do something for me?”

Liam took a harsh breath. “Anything.”

A soft sigh. “Alright, can you tell me five things you can touch?”

The smooth plastic covering the chair that was cool to the touch. The metal table leg next to him. Zayn’s hair with a shaky hand. The soft skin of Zayn’s wrist.

A thumb stroking his cheek. “Great, babe. How about four things you can hear?”

Someone yelling about shoes. The humming of the light above him. Louis’ phone vibrating. Zayn’s murmuring voice.

Zayn stepped closer still. “Perfect. Now, three things you can see.”

Louis’ chewing on his thumb enough for it to probably hurt. The delicious looking wax. Zayn’s eyes, brown and flecks of green. Pretty.

A snort from Louis, an amused huff of breath from Zayn. “Thank you, Li.” Oh, that was out loud. “Okay, can you give me two things you can smell?”

Hair dye. Zayn’s cologne.

“Last one babe. One thing you can taste.”

 _Salt_.

He blinked again, breathing steady and constant, his heart rate back to normal now, and realised he’d turned his head to press his lips to the first thing he could find; Zayn’s fingertips, resting carefully against his lips now, slightly damp from the tears they’d stopped.

And then everything came rushing back, sounds and smells and _everything_ , and he shifted away with a heat in his cheeks. Zayn followed him anyway, a soft smile and cautious eyes.

“Hi, babe. You alright? Scared the shit out of us, yeah?”

Liam took a deep, shuddering breath, and everything settled. “Yeah, I’m – ‘m sorry, I don’t know,” he ran a shaky hand through his hand. “The sudden movement and the light just threw me, thought something had happened to you,” he mumbled, flushed with embarrassment now.

Tattooed fingers entwined with his, and he looked up to meet Zayn’s eyes, wide and concerned.

“I’m fine, babe. Maybe go to that appointment we were talking about, yeah?” Zayn said quietly, squeezing Liam’s fingers carefully, and Liam couldn’t really concentrate. “I hate that it’s affecting you so much.”

“Yeah, I’ll give them a call,” he answered, just as quietly, and then Louis had apparently decided that he’d kept his distance long enough.

“I’m so sorry Liam, I should’ve warned you that I was gonna drop the chair back,” Louis blurted out, and Liam watched amusedly as he seemed to struggle to find the words. “I had no idea, honestly, I just thought it’d be funny.”

Liam chuckled as everything settled even more, surrounded by Zayn and Louis. “It’s alright, mate. Just a lingering issue with a raid gone wrong,” he smiled at Louis, and reached out to clap him on the shoulder. “Now, I think you need to wax my chest now, because otherwise we’re never leaving.”

He flashed Zayn what he hoped was a reassuring smile as Louis snapped into action, but there was still worry written into every part of Zayn’s face. As Louis busied himself by snapping at a man walking past, Liam reached out and grabbed Zayn around the waist, pulling him further into his space until his knees were pressed up against the side of the seat. Zayn half-heartedly batted at his hands, but Liam just pulled him closer, tightening his grip.

“Don’t worry about me, yeah?” Liam heard Zayn scoff, saw him looking around the room to avoid Liam’s gaze, but he pushed on. “I’m fine, and this is gonna be fine, and when I leave here today, I’m gonna be a totally different person.”

Zayn’s head jolted down, and their eyes locked. There was a fierceness in Zayn’s gaze now, and Liam knew him well enough to know the exact tone that was about to come out of his mouth. “No, you won’t be a _totally different person,”_ he snapped, and Liam had braced himself for the icy tone. “You’ll be the same inside, they can’t change that,” his tone softened, but Liam could still see the fiery affection burning in his eyes, “it’s just a few little changes to the outside, yeah?”

Liam grinned, pulling Zayn’s head down for a sloppy kiss on the cheek. He was about to reply with something that was most likely entirely too sappy, but then Louis was running a hand down his chest and making him jolt.

“Oi, what are you doing?”

Louis had stepped closer, wooden rod in hand, and Liam realised it was covered in wax. Nerves shot through his body, and he started to fidget as he instinctively twisted his body away. He’d never been waxed before, anywhere, and none of his previous partners had ever complained about his chest hair, but the gleam in Louis’ eyes told him this wasn’t a _choice_. None of this part really was.

Liam groaned, knew from second-hand stories and TV shows that this _hurt,_ but maybe it was better that it was the first thing he was getting done; everything else might pale in comparison. He covered his eyes, rubbed at them until they stung, and then let his arms drop. He cracked one eye open, took in Louis’ tiny smirk and Zayn’s wide grin, and gave in.

“Alright then, have at it.”

He was prepared when Louis lowered the chair again (carefully this time), and even when he applied the hot wax in a way that made Liam hiss through his teeth. He was confident when Louis stuck a strip to it, and while he patted it to make sure it stuck. It should’ve unnerved him slightly when Zayn snuck his hand underneath Liam’s to comfort him, but he’d somehow managed to convince himself that everything was going to be fine; he’d been through worse. He’d been stabbed, shot, had his nose broken and been kicked in the ribs.

This was nothing.

“Have you ever had your chest waxed, Malik?” Louis asked, casual as anything as he rubbed the strip one last time. Liam was starting to enjoy the heat against his skin and settled back into his chair.

Zayn laughed softly. “Yeah, a couple of times back when I was a teenager.”

“Ah,” Louis made a soft noise. “So, you know what he’s in for then?”

“Pretty much.”

Liam tried to sit up, because this conversation absolutely wasn’t going where he wanted it to, but Louis pushed him back down with a not so gentle hand and started picking at the edge of the strip.

“Alright Liam, you ready?” The smirk on his face had spread, and Liam had a sudden fear that maybe he wasn’t. “Here we go!”

*****

He absolutely hadn’t been ready. 

He was still glaring at Louis from where he sat upright now, watching him in the hairdresser’s mirror as he laughed with Liam’s team. 

Psychotic little shit. 

His chest was still tender, and Liam was just lucky his tee was soft enough that it didn’t make him wince every time it brushed his skin. The last time he’d looked at it, it’d still been a flaming red, soothed just slightly by the cream that Louis had smoothed into his skin when he’d finally stopped giggling. Liam’s flexed his fingers, still sore from where he’d squeezed Zayn’s hand at every turn.

He’d tried to sit up after that, tried to move away from Louis’ amused gaze and Zayn’s stifled laughter, but Louis had pushed him back down gently with a _‘surely you don’t think we’re quite finished here, Payno’_ that’d made him groan even as the nickname made him grin. 

The next thing he’d seen was tweezers headed straight for his face, and he’d flinched away until Louis had explained it was just to tidy up his eyebrows. 

It hadn’t hurt as much as his chest, not even close, but the tiny pricks of pain still lingered where Louis had quickly and efficiently plucked the small hairs. He’d been able to push the pain aside a bit easier with that one, listening to Zayn chat mindlessly about the new tattoo he was designing, but he’d still twitched with every pull against the sensitive skin. 

Louis had been kind enough to warn him just before he’d plucked _under_ his brow, but Liam’s eyes had still watered enough that a traitor of a tear had slid down the side of his face. 

He had pretended not to notice the smug look on Louis’ face when Zayn had wiped it away with a laugh. 

Liam had been pulled up after that, dragged across the room and shoved into a chair for a haircut that he didn’t _really_ think he needed. Before he’d had time to argue through, Louis had bustled off in a flurry of yelling. 

Now though, there seemed to be little points of pain everywhere Louis had touched, and he felt his lips curl up in a wry grin at the thought. He’d barely had time to gather his thoughts though, and focus on something other than the pain before something dropped in front of his eyes. A sizable chunk of hair. He was too afraid to look up into the mirror to check what the hairdresser was doing, so he busied himself with his phone in his lap. There was a text message from Zayn, and he fought the instinct to search him out in the mirror. 

It wasn’t unusual for them to text across a room, even when they were sitting right next to each; in meetings under the table, at the pub for drinks with the team, or even at Liam’s parents' place for dinner that one Christmas when his parents had started getting too handsy at the table. 

It always sent a flood of warmth through Liam, affection settling into the cracks in his body at the thought they had to share everything with each other, straight away, because it couldn’t even wait until they were alone. 

_If it helps, I think you’ve only really got wardrobe after this._

Thank _God_. It somehow felt like he’d been here for both minutes and hours, and he didn’t appreciate being poked at and played with. He grinned, tapping out a quick response. 

**It does help, as long as it doesn’t hurt me in any way.**

He went to put his phone back in his pocket, but it buzzed before he could manage. 

_Ah, better run now then. Louis’ holding a dangerous amount of pins._

Liam snorted, and just as he tried to reply, there was a hand on either side of his face, and his head was being jolted up to look in the mirror. 

“There. How does it look?” The woman behind him was running her fingers through his hair now, shaking it out slightly as the small pieces drifted to the floor, a bored expression on her face. 

Liam blinked.

He could tell she hadn’t cut off a lot of it, but any semblance of his curls had vanished. The sides were shorter than the top, but not by much, and she’d styled it into a slight wave at the front; nothing over the top, parted in the middle but still fresh and clean looking. He found himself nodding when her face grew apprehensive. 

“I love it,” he replied honestly, keeping his hands on his lap even through his fingers itched to run through it. “You did a great job, thank you.”

A quirk of her lips that almost could’ve been a smile. “You’re welcome. I’d move quickly if I was you though, I can see Mr. Tomlinson glaring at me out of the corner of my eye and I’d rather not stick around to find out if it’s the haircut or because we’re behind schedule.”

Liam’s gaze slipped to just behind her in the mirror, and he could see Louis, one hand on his hip and multiple clothes hangers in the other, with raised eyebrows and a set jaw. He sighed as the hairdresser whipped off the cape around his neck, stood up, and shook her hand.

“Thank you again. I should go though, before he has a proper fit.”

He could hear her sniggering being him as he made his way across the warehouse, his shoes oddly loud amongst the crowd of people. 

“Payno! Come on, let’s go,” Louis called as Liam reached the only area with a rug. “Time for you to model for us. Off with your shirt again, please.” Louis waggled his eyebrows and swung around to talk to one of his assistants. 

Liam pulled his shirt up, trying to be careful of his hair, but it got stuck somehow where he’d managed to tangle his arms. He closed his eyes against the dark, trying not to flail and draw attention to himself, and just when he was about it give up and call for Louis, he heard a soft giggle that he’d recognise anywhere. 

“Need some help, babe?” 

He could feel Zayn’s hands, cool and soothing, coming up to rest against his chest. He sighed, the sound happier than he’d intended, and pushed further into the touch. He heard Zayn snort, but then his palm was pressed flat to Liam’s skin where it still stung, fingers spreading out to touch more, and Liam had to reign in the shiver. He hummed, somehow forgetting about his arms stuck over his head. 

“Your hands are cold.”

Zayn’s other hand came up to press against his chest on the opposite side. “You normally hate how cold my hands are.”

Liam twisted awkwardly to feel the contrast more, cold and hot in a way that shouldn’t have sent sparks down his spine. “I don’t normally get my chest waxed,” he shot back, teasing as he seemed to remember he was still trapped. “Can you please help me out of this?”

The cool disappeared for a moment as he felt a tugging against his tee, and then Liam was blinking rapidly against the harsh lights in the room. When everything came back into focus, Zayn was right in front of him, Liam’s tee dangling from his fingertips, and eyes locked on Liam’s chest. 

He looked down, suddenly self conscious, aware that it was red and slightly spotty.

“I know, I know, it’s all gross now.” He couldn’t help but cross his arms over his chest to hide it, avoiding looking at Zayn. “It’ll be covered again by some fancy clothes, don’t worry,” Liam joked, but the tone sounded slightly flat even to him, and Zayn’s eyes darted up, his brows furrowed. 

“What? I - you’ve got to be kidding, Li.” Liam watched as Zayn’s hand lifted to rest against his chest again, and there was no stopping the shiver this time when Zayn’s fingertips gently ran across the lines of his abs. “I always forget how fucking fit you are. Almost like Captain America, after all this.” 

Liam flushed, but a grin crept onto his face. Louis suddenly appeared to ruin the moment, though.

“Well, I guess that makes you Peggy Carter, hey Malik?” Louis clapped Zayn on the shoulder, shiteating grin on his face that Liam was getting frustratingly used to. “Alright Liam, let's dress you up, hey?” 

*****

The rope. It always left bruises, red marks to show that they’d been dealt with, _handled_.

It was a risk, a chance that maybe the agents would find an answer there, the fibres giving something away even though special precautions were taken, everything always clean and perfect. 

Cops were different. It’d been easier when it was the police department, incompetent as they were. 

The agents were ruining _everything,_ trying to destroy what’d been _built_ and _planned_ and what was _meant to happen._

But the agent at the church.

Oh, he’d been pretty. As pretty as the braided rope in between fingers, intricate knots looped for practice for the next person, as soft as the material that twisted against itself, as sharp as the knives sitting to the left, all different sizes and shapes and _beauty._

He’d been too pretty, though. It was a shame really, that he hadn’t been one of the chosen, that he needed to be left there. It’d been an itch under the skin to press deeper with the knife, feel the give of the muscle and slice into his throat until blood covered his skin and he choked on his last breath. 

It’d been too risky there though, the sound of other people too close, footsteps getting louder as the man had been close to death. He hadn’t been worth it at the time, but it was a struggle now to remember why. 

The rope got tied into an easy loop and placed down next to the knife, the smell of bleach from a deep clean heavy in the air. 

There was always time for a second try, another attempt, another chance to see a wave of crimson. Pretty boy would just have to wait. 

And when it was time, they’d all get to play. 


	4. III

The folder spread open on Zayn’s coffee table had been given to him by Liam this time, pressed quietly into his hands with a grin that’d left Zayn feeling warm. It hadn’t been as long of a day as he’d first thought it would be, but then Louis had been more than pleased with how Liam had looked at around 4pm, waxed and styled and dressed up. They’d had time to head back to headquarters to run through the final details before Liam went undercover, and Liam had snuck it to him when Anthony turned his back.

It was always difficult when one of them went undercover. There wasn’t even a guaranteed timeframe here, because even when the competition was over, they still might not have their killer. Someone else might’ve died, and maybe they’d have a lead or two, but it might not be _over_ , and Anthony had been adamant that Zayn stayed as far away as possible.

They always needed to be completely separated during these assignments, maybe talking on the phone once every so often, but it was _different_ this time. There was a vibrating in Zayn’s bones, something that only seemed to settle when he was close to Liam, when he could _see_ Liam, and it was brand new, a feeling he’d never had before. They were best friends, saw each other every workday and almost every day outside of that, but he’d never felt the need to be this close to him, to make sure he was okay.

Liam was exactly the unsub’s type though, at least physically; good looking, muscles, white cis male in his mid to late twenties. It seemed more like bait than a normal assignment, and it made Zayn’s fingers twitch, his pen hitting the wooden table before he could grip it properly.

 _Tomorrow._ How had they gotten here so quickly? He sighed, leaning back against the couch where he was seated on the floor, legs crossed. He took off his glasses and ran his hands through his hair, letting his head fall back against the cushions as he slumped. It was supposed to be two weeks, and they could _handle_ two weeks, they _could,_ but he’d hardly even got to say goodbye.

Zayn shook his head, pulling the crime scene notes towards him and hoping they were enough to distract him. He knew it wouldn’t work completely, that Liam would still sit at the back of his mind, but he could handle that.

“Right,” he murmured to himself, sifting through to find the notes taken from the first scene. “There has to be something.” Talking to himself was a habit that Liam teased him about, the way Zayn would have full conversations with himself even when Liam pointed out he was _right there_ for him to talk to, and Liam would always – .

No. No more thoughts of Liam. He needed to focus.

The first scene has been grossly underreported, a common mistake when police had no idea what was coming, and highlighting a glaring problem with the system. They’d found the man propped up under a lamppost, almost standing somehow, wearing an expensive suit, even wearing shoes, and holding a red rose. His hair was neat, and he was completely clean of blood. There’d been no DNA left behind, no cameras on the location despite the rich area of the city, and the only explanation had been a different murder site, and an unsub who knew what they were doing.

Zayn chewed on his thumb nail as he read the report for the second victim, and then the third, hardly any more detailed and filled with words he’d read countless times before. He just needed _something_ to jump out at him, something that he’d missed somehow.

“Okay, so.” He pushed out a long breath and closed his eyes, counting on his fingers and hoping for his brain to click. “All of the bodies were found in the wealthy shopping district. No blood or obvious signs of injury at first look. No DNA evidence. A red rose on each victim. Dropped at the dump site sometime between midnight and 5am.” His eyes shot open.

Still nothing.

Maybe the photos of the body would help, a pattern in the injuries or a difference between the bodies that showed a descent of the unsub’s mind. He pushed aside the notes, ignoring the crime scene photos that he knew would give him nothing, and grabbed the photos taken at the morgue. 

Zayn had seen a lot of awful things over the years; kidnappings, torture, sexual assaults and brutal murder, but there was something _unsettling_ about this one. It was difficult to pin down exactly what was making it so, but looking at the photos made him grimace. The real damage hadn’t been noticeable until the bodies had been undressed at the morgue. 

Precise cuts littered almost every inch of the bodies, perfectly straight with no jagged edges, and the pattern of the cuts was exactly the same on each victim. There were some that were deep enough to sever everything under the skin, to dive through tendons and veins to almost hit the bone. Others were so shallow that the main purpose seemed to be a more visual aspect, to see blood flow out of the wound. 

None of them were enough to have killed the victims, the sole purpose for torture and pain as they avoided all the main arteries and organs. It was always the final blow to the neck that killed them. 

Bruises littered their skin as well, like they’d been punched and kicked, an odd spontaneous contrast to the delicate way the cuts were made. 

Zayn knew that toxicology had come back completely clear, so the victims were awake and aware the entire time, able to feel every slice of the blade, and it turned his stomach. There’d been nothing of note to report about the material fibres found in the mouths, just that they came from something cotton, standard white, and that amounted to thousands of different possibilities. It had given them the fact that the victims were gagged, but that hadn’t come as a surprise. 

There were rope burns on the wrists and around the ankles, but no fibres to run through the system. It seemed like a soft rope, the marks not too harsh and almost smooth, but with nothing to test, they had no hope of using it to narrow anything down. 

Their hair was always newly washed, clean and styled and perfect, the only particles found being dirt and dust that they’d studied only to find they could be from any number of places. 

Nothing was hiding under the nails, no DNA or evidence of a fight. The victims didn’t seem to have had any chance at getting away, and they still had no idea even where they’d been abducted from. They’d all been taken at different times of day, seemingly just off the street, and that made Zayn curious too, how someone could potentially lure three men to their deaths. 

The only other thing of note had been that two of the men had been married, the other in a serious relationship, and their wedding rings had been taken. Zayn had originally thought maybe it was a trophy, but there didn’t appear to be anything missing from the second victim, nothing that the unsub could’ve kept, and it seemed like an oversight to not keep a momentum if that’s what they were doing. 

Their families had confirmed that there was no connection; none of the men had met, didn’t have any common friends even, and were apparently faithful. Niall hadn’t been able to find anything in phone records or social media accounts to suggest otherwise either. There had to be _something_ , Zayn was sure, had to be something that connected them that they hadn’t been able to find yet. 

He just had no idea where to go from here. 

The profile they’d come up with wasn’t as refined as he wanted, but he couldn’t do anything more without extra information. They had no idea of the gender of the unsub, and all Zayn could remember from the church was that they were taller than him. The voice had faded along with everything else, and he tried not to blame himself for it. All they had was that they were organised, meticulous and a perfectionist, most likely worked a day job with flexible hours that allowed them to work around the drop off time and varied abduction times, but that was it. 

He chewed more on his thumb nail, cautious to stop himself before it hurt, and figured there was one more option they could try. Niall probably wouldn’t be at work anymore, but he grabbed his phone to send him a text before he could forget. 

_Hey mate, have you looked to see if there’s any connections between the victims and the pageant?_

The reply was almost instant. 

**_Yeah mate, nothing. Still going through some of their backgrounds, but there’s nothing here. You know I’ll let you know if there’s anything!_ **

_Thanks man, see you tomorrow._

**_Xxx_ **

He was _frustrated_. There _had_ to be something, there always was, and he hated the fact that to get more information, Liam would have to go undercover. 

_Liam._ Why was this so difficult this time?

Normally, they’d spend the night before together, eating shitty Chinese food and watching Marvel movies until whoever was leaving the next day snuck out during the night when the other was asleep. It sounded heartless, almost cruel when he thought about it, but the logic was sound; if they didn’t actually say a goodbye, it wasn’t one, just a brief period of time where they wouldn’t see each other.

They hadn’t gotten that today, and it was the first time ever that Zayn had gone home on his own with the knowledge that Liam would purposefully be in danger the next day. Liam had needed to stay at headquarters for more meetings, ones that Anthony had been stern but apologetic about, if the sad look he’d shot Zayn had been any indication. They’d only had five minutes in their office, five minutes where they had tried to pretend everything was fine before Zayn had almost fallen into Liam’s arms and clung so tightly that he’d almost hurt himself.

It’d helped that Liam had embraced him harder, had wrapped himself around Zayn so closely that Zayn was sure their heart beats had synced, just for a moment.

He stretched with a frustrated groan, pushing the coffee table away and standing. It just hadn’t been enough, and Liam had pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead that Zayn had felt in his toes. It should’ve been fine, but it _wasn’t,_ and Zayn didn’t know how to fix it. He’d tried to convince Liam to come over later anyway, no matter the time, but they’d had no idea how long Liam would be there for, preparing to shift into a different name and backstory. Liam needed his sleep, needed to get up at five the next morning, and it was already getting too close to 8pm with no word from him. 

The abrupt knock at the door made him freeze, takeaway menu in hand in the kitchen, and hoped that maybe, he’d managed to manifest Liam at his door. 

When he swung it open, the last person he expected to find was Louis.

“Ahh, hi?” 

Louis just grinned, and held up the things in his hands; a six pack of beer, and bag full of Chinese takeout. “Hey lad. Want some company?” 

Zayn had a million questions, mainly _how did Louis know where he lived,_ but he still felt relieved that someone was here, that he could spend the rest of his night with a distraction from worrying about Liam. 

He liked Louis too, found the banter fun and the smiles easy, and there was no harm in getting to know him. 

“On one condition.”

Louis raised his eyebrows, but the challenge in his eyes was playful. “Yes?”

“You have to call me Zayn from now on.” 

It was a bright sound when Louis laughed. “Deal.”

“Then I’d love some, t’ be honest.” Zayn stepped back to let him inside and took the takeout from him, wandering into the kitchen with Louis trailing behind. “Should I ask how you know where I live?” 

Louis shrugged, cracking open two of the beers and sliding one to Zayn along the bench. “Liam. I was in a few meetings with him and your boss until about an hour ago, and he told me about your usual routine.” Louis leant back against the bench as Zayn pulled out containers of food. “He said you’d looked a bit put out and wanted me to make sure you were alright. Paid for the food and everything.”

Zayn blinked, not sure why he suddenly felt like crying. “You got my favourites.” 

“ _Liam_ got your favourites,” Louis corrected, “but I’m happy to take credit for it.” 

“Thanks man.” Zayn shot Louis a grin, letting himself feel the rush of happiness that was invading his system at the thought of Liam wanting to look after him. “I appreciate you comin’ round.” 

A hand slapped Zayn on the shoulder as Louis took a swig of his beer. “The pleasure’s all mine. We may as well get to know each other anyway. I can pass secret messages between you and Liam while he’s undercover, like a spy!”

Zayn snorted as he grabbed plates and cutlery, nodding to the coffee table so Louis knew to grab the food. “What, like smoke signals and shit?” 

“I was thinking more like invisible ink and coded pictures, but if you wanna go all out, I’m happy to start a fire.”

“As long as it doesn’t trace back to me, feel free to do whatever you like.” 

Louis laughed as he sat on the couch, carefully putting down their beers that were nestled in between his fingers as he gathered the files and moved them to the floor. “No guarantees. Now, I hear it’s time for a movie, yeah?”

The fact that Liam had made sure Zayn was looked after and preoccupied and just _okay_ made him soft, and he threw himself down onto the couch next to Louis. “Yeah. Just not Marvel. It’s kind of a ‘me and Liam’ thing.” It sounded silly when he said it, like a child holding something to their chest and screaming _MINE_ , but Louis only smiled at him, and hid a developing smirk behind his beer. 

“Whatever you pick is fine.” 

They settled on one of the Harry Potter movies, something they’d both seen dozens of times, but that worked in their favour as it faded into the background as they chatted, one beer fading into the next. 

“I’m really bad at names, most of the time.” Louis’ eyes were on the screen, and he winced when Hermione punched Draco in the face. “There’s so many people in your team, and I feel like I’m supposed to know them.”

Zayn made a sound of disagreement and turned to look at him. “It’s not something you need to worry about. There’s Kirby, with the long dark hair, and Neal, the shorter, talkative lad.”

“Please don’t tell me I’ve been calling the Irish guy by the complete wrong name.” 

“No, no,” Zayn laughed, pulling his legs up onto the couch to get comfortable. “That’s Niall. He’s dating the tall, dark haired guy, Shawn. They’ve been together for about three years.”

“Office romances are ripe in the MI5, hey? Who would’ve thought.”

Zayn furrowed his brow. “I don’t know about other departments.” 

Louis tore his eyes away from the screen to shoot Zayn a slightly incredulous look. “I mean, just in your department there’s already a lot for office romances. Niall and Shawn, you and Liam - .”

“Wait what do you mean, me and Liam?” Even as he said it, there was realisation creeping up his spine, that maybe it wasn’t just Anthony who could see something different in them. 

“Maybe the fact you’re desperately in love with him?” 

Zayn spluttered, exceedingly grateful that he didn’t have a mouthful of rice or beer. “I’m _not_ in love with Liam.” Louis’ expression shifted to one of complete disbelief, and so Zayn pushed on, moving on the couch to sit up straighter. “I’m not! I love him, yeah, of course, but I’m not _in_ love with him.” 

“You definitely _seem_ like you’re in love with him.” Louis’ gaze was unwavering, but not intimidating, just like he was trying to help Zayn answer a puzzle he had no clue how to solve. 

Zayn scoffed, and he knew his hands were flailing slightly but he couldn’t seem to calm his mind enough to slow them. This wasn’t something he could laugh off, wasn’t someone assuming they were a couple. This was someone telling him they were sure he was in love with Liam, _in love_ with him, and it felt much more real than a casual joke about their friendship. 

“I’m _not_. We’re just affectionate, we’re best mates, Louis.” Zayn was trying to sound firm, but his heart was beating too fast and his mind was jumbled, like it was all trying to protect him from something he hadn’t known was a threat. Fight or flight, he thought. “I know not everyone has a friendship like ours, but it doesn’t mean I’m in _love_ with him.”

Louis looked thoughtful, and it seemed odd that he wasn’t back tracking, or even apologising for the assumption, but he just seemed to be mulling it all over. “I mean, I’ve seen people with friendships like yours. I _have_ friendships like yours.” He was giving Zayn his full attention now, and Zayn tried not to shrink under it. “It just seems different with you. How do you feel about him, then? Just humour me.” He grinned. 

It was a loaded question, and one Zayn had never been asked before. He didn’t know how to answer it, and not because he _didn’t_ know how he felt about Liam. It was because everything had swirled in his head at the question, like Louis had dropped something into dust and all the particles had shot into the air to float, suddenly real and noticeable where they’d been hidden before, blending in seamlessly.

“I love how much he cares,” Zayn started, but it wasn’t enough. “He cares so much about everyone. He’d put his life on the line for the people he loves, and he _has_ for me, multiple times.” At Louis’ gentle nod, Zayn kept going. “He makes me feel safe, like I could tell him anything and everything and he’d still be there, or that no matter what happens, he’ll always make sure I’m okay. I know I’m safe with him, but not just as work.” Zayn was just staring at the TV now, only seeing flickers of the movie as Louis waited patiently. 

“What else?” He hadn’t known Louis for long, but it was the softest he’d heard him speak. 

“He’s funny,” Zayn answered immediately, a small smile growing on his face without his permission. “He’s so funny Louis, like, sometimes it’s the stupidest shit, but no one makes me laugh more than he does. And the way he loves his family?” He started fidgeting, his hands in his lap. “It’s so sweet, and he’s the kindest person I know.” 

Louis slung his arm over the back of the couch. “He’s very kind. What else, Zayn?” 

It was all consuming, to think about Liam like this; no holds barred, just pure and honest and _real_. “He’s so strong, and not just physically,” Zayn pondered out loud, “even though he _is_ incredibly fit.” He ignored Louis’ snort. “He’s brave, Louis. So brave. The things I’ve seen him do would terrify so many people, but when he knows it’s the right thing, he doesn’t hesitate. And the way he touches me is always so soft and careful, exactly when he knows I need it. No one knows me better than he does.” 

“You do touch a lot,” Louis mused, that infuriating smile still on his face. “Anything else?” 

“Everything. I feel everything for him, because he’s so overwhelming and easy to love and,” Zayn couldn’t seem to stop now, the words flowing easily out of his mouth until he didn’t even know what he was saying, “I can’t imagine my life without him. In 10, 20 years, I know he’ll still be in my life because I need him to be.”

“Because you’re in love with him.”

“Because I’m in love with him.”

Oh.

_Oh no._

This couldn’t be happening. Zayn squeezed his eyes shut, praying that when he opened them, Louis would be gone and he’d be able to untangle his thoughts on his own. There was no such luck though, because when he opened his eyes again Louis was still sitting on his couch, beer in his hand, looking at Zayn with reassurance dotted through his features.

“Zayn, it’s alright.” Louis pulled his legs up to match Zayn, curled up on the couch. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to. Did you really not know before now?”

“I - I still don’t know. I’ve always felt this way about him, I would’ve noticed. We’re best friends Louis, I would’ve _known_.” Zayn was _sure_ , almost pleading, because surely at some point in the past almost decade, he would’ve realised that he’d fallen in love with his best mate. “It’s not something that just sneaks up on you.”

“Of course it is, Zayn. Not all the time, but sometimes it does.” Louis seemed happy to let Zayn have his internal crisis, and kept talking. “Sometimes it just develops slow enough that you don’t even realise it’s happening until it’s completely consumed you.”

It was too much too quickly, and Zayn didn’t know if it was something he _actually_ felt, or if Louis had planted the idea in his head. Louis didn’t even know him, or know _them,_ properly, hadn’t spent enough time around them both to understand that that was just how they were. Zayn should’ve felt odd about having this conversation with a near stranger in the first place, but for some reason it felt normal, like he’d been mates with Louis for a few years instead of a few days. The revelation niggled though, insistent and probing even when he tried to push it down so he could breathe. Louis certainly wasn’t the first to question what they had, but he’d been the first to be so blunt about it.

Zayn laughed, hollow and almost broken as his pulse still raced through his body. “No. I can’t be. Even if that’s what it is, I _can’t_ be.” He looked to Louis, almost desperately hoping that Louis would take back what he’d put into the universe, but it didn’t work like that. “We work together, and it’d ruin _everything_ , fuck it’d ruin everything.”

“Okay first off, you absolutely don’t know that. You have no idea how Liam feels about you.” Louis nudged at Zayn’s knee with his foot. “And secondly, you already work together and love him, why would it be different?”

“I don’t know that I’m in love with him,” Zayn snapped, and then closed his eyes to take a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

Louis just shrugged, seemingly indifferent to the way that Zayn had just snapped at him. “You don’t have to know.”

Zayn sagged back on the couch and covered his face with his hands. Maybe if he pretended the world around him didn’t exist, he could pretend that Louis hadn’t just turned the entire fucking thing upside down. “Why would you bring this up right before he goes undercover?”

“I didn’t know you before then! There was no other time!”

“You could’ve waited!”

Louis was quiet for a moment, the only sound in the background the movie as it continued. “Well, I suppose I could’ve, but honestly mate, I thought you knew. You’re so obvious about it!”

Zayn groaned and kicked out at him, letting his hands drop when Louis let out a soft _oof._ “I was perfectly happy not knowing, so thanks for that.”

“I mean, he’s well fit though.” Louis threw his hands up when Zayn shot him a glare. “I’m not saying he’s my type! I’m just saying I can appreciate how he looks, that’s all.”

It was the perfect segue for Zayn to change the topic, and if Louis picked up on what he was doing, he didn’t show it. “What is your type, then?”

He seemed to think it over for a second as he drained the last of his bottle. “I don’t know, really. Tall, tattoos, dark hair. Makes me laugh, with a deep voice and just someone who’s kind.”

Zayn raised an eyebrow, looking away from the screen. “Are you _sure_ Liam’s not your type?”

“Oh, piss off.” He was grinning though, but it faded slightly the longer Zayn looked at him. “I ah, I’ve never really had a boyfriend, to be honest.”

It was a surprise, only because Louis seemed like a great person; caring and intelligent and funny, blue eyes that had almost shocked Zayn the first time he’d seen them. “Not a relationship kinda guy?”

Louis raised his eyebrows with a self-deprecating grin. “The opposite. I’m not really a one-night stand kinda guy, but,” he sighed, and he looked so hesitant that Zayn cut him off.

“Hey, you don’t need to tell me anything, you know. We barely know each other,” he pointed out, but Louis looked instantly offended, some of the light returning to his eyes.

“But this is how you _get_ to know someone! Learning about their past trauma. Besides, you and Liam wanted to know more about mine and Simon’s background anyway, so.” Louis shrugged, but even the mention of Simon had made him withdraw slightly, physically drawing back into himself.

Zayn couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity. They needed to know this, especially if they were all going to work together, and there was every possibility that it would give them more insight into Simon’s character, crucial when both him and Liam had struggled to read him properly in their meeting. He just didn’t want to use Louis’ past to do it.

“Only if you’re comfortable, mate.”

“Yeah, just…let me get another beer. Want one?”

Zayn shook his head, two enough for the night as Louis wandered to the kitchen. Harry Potter was still playing, so Zayn tried to concentrate on it while he waited for Louis to come back from the kitchen, but it was pointless. Louis was obviously steeling himself for the conversation because he was gone for five minutes, much too long to just be getting a beer from the fridge, and when he came back he was wiping his hand on his pants. Sweaty palms, then. He was slightly pale too, and it was instantly easy to figure out his tell; he pushed his fringe back from his face. 

He threw himself down on the couch, feet curled up under himself again, and took a long swig.

“Alright, so. I met Simon about five years ago when I was 21, and the only reason I hadn’t met him in person before that was just because the women’s and men’s pageants are so separate, you know? The base idea is obviously the same, but they’re organised by completely different companies.” Louis took another sip, smaller this time “He was fine at first, just seemed a bit eager maybe, always trying to talk to me and convince me to join the pageants. I always said no, and then he tried to get me to train some of the men, but I was busy with my sisters and it was never my main job. I just loved doing it, but I didn’t really want anything to do with the male side of the competition. It didn’t mean that I had no idea about what happens there though, because I do.”

“You wouldn’t be helping us if you didn’t,” Zayn pointed out, shifting to get more comfortable.

Louis smiled at him and started fiddling with the label on the bottle. “Well, that’s true. At the time, I was closeted, had been for years. It all came from high school, watching kids like me get bullied until they broke. I didn’t want to be another statistic, Zayn.” He wasn’t looking at him, but Zayn couldn’t stop staring at Louis. He looked so dejected that it was hard not to pull him into a hug. “I already got teased a bit for the pageant stuff, so I just tried to make up for it by dating girls that made me cringe because I didn’t _want_ a girl. I’ve known I was gay since I was about 12, but I just kept it pushed back and pretended it was fine, figured that as long as _I_ knew, no one else needed to know. It kept eating at me though, and when I left high school, I could open up a bit, become a bit more,” he paused with a grin, “flamboyant, I suppose. I’m still that way now, but the shit from school stills follows me, and it’s so easy to fall back into that shield of a personality that sometimes it’s hard to get away from it.”

“I’m sorry, mate,” Zayn said quietly, trying not to shatter the vulnerability Louis had put forward.

“It’s alright. I’m much more confident now, but the point is that I was closeted when I met Simon and stayed closeted up until last year. My family didn’t even know, although I’m sure my mum did, deep down.” Louis had started picking away the label. “I’d turned Simon down for maybe the twentieth time about a year ago, and he just shifted, man. He’s the kinda guy that you _know_ there’s something off about, like maybe you shouldn’t get on the wrong side of him, but he’d always just laughed it off when I’d turned him down. It was like he was a completely different person around me. Weird things kept happening to some of my equipment at Lottie’s pageant, and I couldn’t figure it out until someone mentioned he’d been there.” Louis looked up at Zayn, his brows furrowed. “He never used to go there, ever, and I fuckin’ knew it was him. I just _knew_. The look on his face the last time I’d seen him had been like this mask, something I’d never seen, and I couldn’t put my finger on it. How did you find him when you met?”

“Confusing,” Zayn frowned. “I couldn’t get a read on him at all, and neither could Liam. Not to brag, but we’re great at what we do, and for us to not be able to figure someone out even a little bit is fucking weird, you know? And not being able to figure out what’s so off is even worse.”

Louis was already nodding. “Yeah mate, that’s the exact thing. If he thinks you can give him something, he’s nice as pie, but the second you push back, he’ll slowly destroy you from the inside out.” He laughed, humourless and cut off. “It’s exactly what he did to me. I went to his office to try and confront him and walked in on him with one of the contestants from his pageant.”

“I – as in, walked in on while they were…,” Zayn trailed off.

“Fucking over his desk, yeah,” Louis answered drily, laughing at Zayn when his jaw dropped. “I know. I wish I could bleach my brain. He slipped up when we were arguing after that though and said _if I want to sleep with all those contestants, I can!_ I managed to force it out of him after that, that it wasn’t the first time and that it was helping contestants win.” Louis sipped at his beer again, smacking his lips as Zayn tried to wrap his head around the mountain of information. “I could’ve destroyed him. Everyone sees Simon as this helpful, pleasant guy who just wants to make a difference, and it would’ve ruined everything. I didn’t have any proof though, and no one would’ve believed me. People on both sides of pageants knew who I was, but it didn’t mean everyone _liked_ me. A lot of them hated that I was young, or that I was working in the women’s pageants, or that I wouldn’t touch the men’s pageant. It would’ve been the end of my pageantry career there.”

Zayn was taking mental notes to tell the team tomorrow, making sure to leave out anything personal aboutLouis. They didn’t need to know the whole story. “How did you end up getting kicked out, then?”

Louis looked straight at him, hard enough that Zayn could almost see the anger behind his eyes, and pushed his fringe out of his eyes. “As I walked out of his office, he told me that if I told anyone, he’d out me. To everyone, including my family.”

Zayn couldn’t stop the gasp that shot out of his mouth. “What the _fuck_?”

“It was the weirdest feeling. I felt so terrified, but I was furious, and I had no idea how to handle it. I stammered that I wouldn’t tell anyone and just walked away in the end. I don’t even know how he knew. I think it was just a guess, to be honest.” Louis put his beer down to wring his hands slightly in his lap. “It wasn’t that I was _ashamed_. I just wasn’t _ready,_ and I already felt weak about it. I know it’s stupid, but I couldn’t help but think about that all the time, how much easier my life would be if I just came out.”

“That’s not how it works though, Louis,” Zayn said gently. 

“I know, I know. I just didn’t know back then. I was too busy wallowing in my own self pity to realise that I still wasn’t in the clear though.” Louis’ hands were still fidgeting in his lap. “The next day, right before Lottie’s final, I got pulled into a room by the company running the pageant. They had all these documents, fake ones that I know Simon drew up, that basically said I’d been paying the judges to make sure my sisters won. I was kicked out straight away.” 

Zayn went to tell Louis how fucked that was, how manipulative Simon had been even though he was sure he already knew, but Louis put his hand out to stop him. 

“I haven’t finished yet.” Louis took a deep breath, and Zayn prepared himself because surely there was nothing more, nothing else Simon had done to him. “When I got out of the meeting, my family was waiting, and they were so confused because Simon had just casually dropped into the coversation that I was gay. I told him I wouldn’t say anything, and he ruined my reputation and outed me to my family anyway. I wanted to try and get back at him, I really did, but,” Louis sighed, pushing his fringe back from his face, “Simon’s the type of guy that always seems like he’s hiding something bigger than people think, and he’d ruined me so easily already that it was going to be such a risk to push back. He forged those documents so quickly, you know? He had no problems outing me to my family. There was no way to know what else he was capable of. I just wanted to be gone by that point, anyway.” He was tapping an odd beat against the couch with his foot, distracting but Zayn assumed it was calming him. “I felt like such a _failure,_ like I was weak, but I needed time to lick my wounds.”

Zayn was usually good at controlling his temper, aggressiveness not in his nature unless someone he loved was threatened, or an unsub pushed him too far. This made his blood boil though, made his hands shake and his head spin. He’d known there was something inherently wrong with Cowell, but he hadn’t quite expected this level of cruelty. 

“ _Louis_. That’s fucking,” Zayn tried to find the right words, but nothing really seemed to fit, “horrible. I’m so sorry. Do you want me to have him killed?” He lowered his voice to a conspiring whisper, hoping to draw a smile out of Louis. “I could probably get someone to do it.”

Louis shrugged, a small smile on his face though. “Nah mate, he’s not worth it anymore. It was alright, in the end. My family were the most supportive, you know? Mum was furious at him,” Louis chuckled, settling more into the couch. “She tore him a new one when we ran into him on the way out. I was so worried Lottie was gonna hate me because she couldn’t compete anymore, but all she cared about was making sure I was okay. I’m so lucky, Zayn. It could’ve been such a shit situation, and it _was_ in a way, but it also showed me how loved I am.”

“You didn’t deserve that shit.” 

“No one does,” Louis agreed, “but that’s why I’ve never had a boyfriend. I was closeted, and then the last year’s just been a weird time for me.” 

Zayn blew out a breath. “That’s totally fair, man. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.” 

“Thanks for being trustworthy. I know you’ll have to tell your team, and I get it.” 

There was a simple response on the tip of Zayn’s tongue, one to tell Louis that his private life would remain private wherever possible, but then Zayn’s work phone was vibrating on the table. He shot Louis an apologetic look, and answered the call without looking properly at it.

“Special Agent Malik.” 

_“Zayn.”_

His heart leapt into his throat. “Li.” Zayn cleared his throat, suddenly nervous around Liam for the first time in years. “Are you gonna come round? Louis’ here, but obviously you know that.” He was babbling, and Louis was staring at him with a smirk. “I was gonna message you, but - .”

_“Zayn. There’s been another murder.”_

*****

It was cold outside when Zayn turned up to the site, even with his coat on and a scarf around his neck. Louis had left quickly, but only after Zayn had forced him to. He’d wanted to come because ‘ _I’m kinda involved!’,_ but Zayn had shut him down straight away. People always thought they’d be able to handle it, like it would be like in the movies, but everyone struggled their first time, even their second or fifth or tenth, and Louis wasn’t trained in any capacity. Anthony would’ve had Zayn’s _head_ if he’d brought him along. 

He spotted Liam before he saw the body, wrapped in his black pea coat with a frown on his face as he talked to Anthony. Zayn made a beeline for him, flashing his badge at an officer and ducking under the tape to get to his side. 

“Hey, is it the same?” 

They both looked at him, and Liam’s eyes softened just a touch. He was still worried though, his mouth set in a slight frown even as he reached out to pull Zayn into his side. 

“Hey.” Liam murmured, and Zayn tried to push back the need to press right up against him. “Yeah, it looks pretty much the same, except it’s a bit messier. We’ll have a proper chat when you’ve had a look.”

Zayn nodded his thanks to Anthony when he passed him a set of gloves, and looked up at Liam. “Alright. Thanks for sending Louis over.” His arm came up to wrap around Liam’s waist, and he dug his fingers in to make him giggle. “It wasn’t the same as you being there, though.” 

“I’d be a little bit insulted if it was,” Liam laughed, his hand coming up to run through Zayn’s hair. “Didn’t think I’d get to see you again.”

There was an awareness in Zayn now, questioning every touch, every shiver that Liam’s fingers pulled out of him when they ran across his scalp.It didn’t stop him from pushing back into the touch. “Should you even be here? You need to get your rest, go home.” 

“Absolutely not.” Liam pulled back, affronted, and his hand settled at the nape of Zayn’s neck. “I need as much information as possible.”

“I can send it all to you! You don’t need to be here, Liam.” 

“I’m staying anyway.” 

There was no arguing with him, and even Anthony just shrugged, so Zayn snapped on his gloves and went to look at the body. It was propped up against another lamppost, right in front of a Gucci store.

Liam was right. It _was_ messy, uncharacteristically so. It wasn’t that it was a _complete_ mess, and the victim definitely hadn’t been killed here, but there was blood on the white shirt, seeping through the material as though he’d been dressed just after the cut. Zayn squatted down, balancing on the tips of his toes next to one of the forensics team. 

“Can I? Do you have all the photos and everything you need?” He gestured at the body and waited for the woman to nod before he unbuttoned the shirt with a grimace. 

The cuts were still new, the exact same positions as the other victims, and blood was still drying on the skin around them. They hadn’t been cleaned at all, more sloppy work that didn’t fit the pattern. Zayn frowned and thumbed at one of the cuts. The edge was slightly jagged, nothing like the precise slices on the other victims. He ruled out a copycat instantly though; they hadn’t released the patterns of the marks. 

He gently grabbed the man’s elbow and pulled up the suit sleeve, moving the wrist to see the marks there. They were exactly the same, so the man had been bound just like the others, and a brief look at his ankles showed the same rope burn. 

Zayn heard footsteps behind him, knew it was Liam by his shoes when he stopped next to him, but Zayn was too busy staring at the man’s face to pay him any attention. 

The victim fit the unsub’s type perfectly, his build exactly the same as the others. There was a tan line where a wedding ring had been, but his hair was ruffled, not neat like the others, and Zayn squinted to see what was sitting in the man’s fringe. 

It was glinting slightly in the light, and when he touched it gently, it stayed stuck to the man’s hair. It was red, but it definitely wasn’t blood, the consistency slightly off.

“We’ve sent it away for testing.” Liam’s voice broke through the little bubble Zayn had built. “They’ve put a rush on it.”

Zayn took off his gloves as he stood and threw them into the hazard rubbish bag a couple of feet away. “It’s the first slip up. The wound in the neck isn’t anywhere near as clean either. It almost looks like a completely different instrument was used.” 

They started walking back towards the tape where Anthony was, ignoring the civilians plastered along it trying to get a look. Liam rolled his eyes at them. “I thought that. It’s not as perfect, just like the cuts. He’s losing his control.”

“Escalating?”

Liam grimaced and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Kind of. It’s hard to tell without knowing when this one was taken, but the pattern’s way off anyway. There shouldn’t have been a victim until the end of the pageant, and it seemed like there was a rush to get the body out into the public.”

“Was there a note?” Zayn came to a stop beside Anthony who was talking on the phone. 

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen it yet. I got here later than the others, and they’d already removed it.”

Anthony cut in, holding the phone away from his mouth for a second. “I didn’t want to show it to you both, but it’s necessary. Here.” And then he was passing Liam a piece of paper in an evidence bag. 

Zayn scooted in close to read it, but he should’ve known it was bad when Liam’s fingers clenched around the plastic. It wasn’t a riddle, but it was almost worse. 

_Pretty boy._

_You deserve a present after what happened to you in the church._

_I hope it’s to your liking._

It should’ve sent fear through him, or been concerning in some way, but all he felt was a slight shiver and a burning curiosity. It added a whole new layer, the idea that fixating on Zayn could help with their case.

Liam apparently did not agree. 

By the time Zayn had tuned back into the conversation, Liam and Anthony were already arguing. 

“The best thing you can do here is to go undercover to catch them, Payne. Malik can look after _himself_.” 

The paper was ripped from Zayn’s sight when Liam shoved it in Anthony’s face. “He could be a direct target now, sir. I need to - .”

Anthony looked completely done with the conversation. “What you _need_ to do is your _job._ We’re not having this discussion again. Both of you go home, now. The rest of the team is perfectly capable of handling this, just as they will be at looking after Zayn.” He turned to Zayn now with a weary expression, and took the note back from Liam. “Malik, I’ll see you in the morning. Payne, I’ll talk to you in a few hours, I suppose.” 

Zayn watched him walk away for a moment until Liam’s grunt of frustration brought his attention back. “Liam, it’s fine. It’s not targeted, it’s not a threat, it’s just a letter. I’ll be fine. Now please, go home. You’ve got other things to worry about, yeah?” 

“You’re always the thing I worry about the most.” Liam stepped towards him and cupped his neck, pressing their foreheads together, and _this_ is why they never said goodbye.

It was too hard to pretend everything would be fine tomorrow, like he’d see Liam and be able to talk to him and touch him, and Zayn couldn’t believe, here and now, that he’d never realised he had feelings for Liam. 

He didn’t have time to figure it out either, just closed his eyes and gripped Liam’s coat to stop himself from falling into the first thoughts of kissing him that he’d ever really felt.

“You need to focus on the case, Liam. I can’t be the main thing you think about.” 

Liam didn’t answer, just moved to wrap his arms around Zayn as the world roared around them, police and media and flashing lights from cop cars, red and blue lighting up Liam’s jawline. Zayn let himself be held, took the risk of being too close at a time when he didn’t know what he was doing, until Anthony came back and told them to go. He looked sorry for interrupting, but they had to listen to him this time, and when Liam got into his car to leave, Zayn tried not to dwell on the way he’d said ‘ _love you, Zaynie’_.

Or the almost desperate way he’d said it back. 

*****

Zayn hadn’t slept, or not well anyway. 

He’d tossed and turned all night, Louis’ words about Liam ringing in his head until the sun had started lighting up his room with oranges and reds. Niall had practically thrown coffee at him the second he’d arrived at headquarters, must’ve been able to see it in his heavy eyes and slow moments. It didn’t help that Zayn had no idea how long they’d need to be here before they left to go to the hotel anyway, a shorter drive from his apartment that would’ve just meant more sleep.

Most of their equipment was packed up ready to be moved, computers and large screens, chairs and a large table to strategize once they were allowed onsite. Niall’s gear was among the only things not packed; they needed to use it now, but it’d all be moved with them later so he could work to the best of his ability. Zayn could see a few of Niall’s knick knacks settled on the desk in the corner though, ready to leave with them because Niall always worked better when somewhere felt like home. They needed their own setup though, a war room, as Liam always called it, but right now this one was too _loud_. Kirby and Neal were looking at a board with what looked like crime scene photos while Shawn called out names across to where Niall had moved back to his desk.

Everything was too _loud_ for 7am when there was a thump of a headache right behind his eyes, and Zayn scowled at Anthony when he waved. He didn’t look fazed though, just quirked his lips and turned back to his phone call, and Zayn didn’t even feel slightly bad about it. He fell heavily into one of the chairs, knocking his coffee back with a grimace and setting the mug on the table in front of him. He pulled the files out of his bag and let them fall to the table with a _thud_ , glaring at Niall when he cackled _too loudly_.

“Malik, pull ya fucking head out of your arse, yeah? It’s gonna be a really long day if you keep this up.” Niall threw himself down beside him, Zayn’s chair jolting when his arm came around the back of it.

Zayn closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and then a second, and then a third, but when it didn’t help settle his misplaced frustration, he opened them again to shoot pleading eyes at Niall instead. “Do you have any painkillers? My head’s killin’ me.”

It wasn’t Niall’s hand that appeared in front of him though, paracetamol and a glass of water being placed on the table. It was Anthony, and Zayn realised a beat too late that the files Liam had given him were right there. He must’ve looked panicked because Anthony took one look at him, eyebrows raised, and chuckled. He sat across from him and pushed the pills and glass across.

“Do you honestly think I don’t know you take files home? I don’t know how you managed to snag that one, but I’ve been looking for it all morning. I should’ve known you had it.”

Zayn swallowed the pills gratefully, downing the glass of water with them. “Thanks, sir. Liam gave them to me, actually.”

Anthony had the decency to look surprised. “Thought he disapproved.”

“He does,” Zayn agreed, rubbing at his forehead as though it would speed up the pain relief, “but he knows how much I hate change in my personal life, so I think he was hoping it’d be enough to placate me.”

“This is change to your _work_ life though.” It was just like Anthony to be straight to the point, never probing, just curious. It was something Zayn always thought they had in common.

“Not when it’s Liam, sir. It affects my personal life, too.”

Anthony seemed to be studying him, almost too intently, and Zayn could almost hear the clicking of his mind as he tried to put two and two together. “Well, I need you in the best possible way for the next two weeks.” He leant forward, his expression easing. “I know it’s hard when your partner’s undercover, especially when it’s you and Payne,” he said wryly, and Zayn felt the heat in his cheeks, “but I really need you to be at the top of your game. I know what you’re capable of, Zayn. I’ve seen it, with and without Liam, and this case needs everything you have.”

It was strangely reassuring to know that Anthony still found him just as effective without Liam, that even though Zayn felt like he needed him to do his job properly, Anthony didn’t.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best.”

“I’d expect nothing less. Now, there’s a few things I need you to understand.” Anthony sat up straighter and waited for Zayn to nod. “You are not, under any circumstances, to contact Payne during the duration of this assignment unless I’m with you.”

Zayn’s entire stomach felt like it’d fallen onto the floor. “I – I don’t understand.”

Anthony sighed and steepled his fingers, a clear sign that Zayn knew meant he was gearing up for a tough conversation. “The risk to you is much too high. While we don’t believe that you’re a direct target, this unsub has already broken their pattern once. We cannot guarantee that you’ll be safe, and they already know what you look like. Zayn,” Anthony raised his eyebrow, “you are not to go anywhere near that hotel and we also can’t risk the possibility of a tapped phone line, or that his texts will get intercepted. Liam will check in with Niall once a day, and even if he can’t, we have Louis on the inside.”

Two weeks. It was _only_ two weeks, in the grand scheme of things, but there was every possibility it would be longer, that Zayn wouldn’t get to see or talk to Liam for more than _two whole weeks_. It’d be the longest they’d gone without contact in some form, and there was a buzzing in Zayn’s ears, a pounding in his chest, because he had no idea if this was something he could manage.

“I’m sorry, but no,” Zayn shook his head, ignoring Anthony’s twitching fingers. “You don’t know Liam like I do. We have to be in contact, he’ll worry about me too much.” 

Anthony’s eyes grew stormy. “I don’t know what’s gotten into the two of you recently, but this is _not_ up for discussion. You are not to see him, call him, or text him. He can manage two weeks without you, and you without him. He’ll have the rest of the team to contact, and quite frankly, I think you’d be a distraction.” 

Zayn squared his shoulders, too involved now to recognise that the room had gone silent. “I’m not a distraction, sir. I’m his _partner_.” His voice was cold, his stare hard, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “We may work well apart, but we’re better together, and you know it.”

“Of course I know it Malik, and normally it’s true, but you’re letting your personal life bleed into your work.” Anthony raised his voice, but Zayn didn’t shy away. “This is to keep you both as safe as possible, and it is a direct order.” Zayn‘s face twisted and he was ready to argue, but Anthony cut him off. “A _direct_ order, Special Agent Malik.”

The use of his full title made him pause. In this type of situation, it was the equivalent of a parent using their child’s full name when they were in trouble, and Zayn was well aware he was being scolded. They glared at each other across the table, the only sound in the room the slow clacking of Niall’s keyboard, and Zayn knew he was pushing his luck. There was no way to win here though, not without serious repercussions, so he had no choice but to concede. 

“I don’t agree with this, sir.” Zayn scoffed, shaking his head and leaning back against his chair.

“I don’t need you to agree with me, Malik. I just need you to listen to me.” Anthony stood then, his hands clasped behind his back, and it was a clear power move. “Promise me you won’t contact Liam, Zayn. Promise me.” 

There was no other choice but to lie. “I promise.” 

*****

The popcorn seemed like overkill, but it hadn’t stopped Zayn from sneaking another handful when Niall’s back was turned. 

His headache had vanished right after his conversation with Anthony, and they’d spent the next few hours going over what Niall had found out about the other contestants. 

It was nothing remarkable. 29 other men were competing in the pageant, and they all came from a variety of backgrounds, careers, and cities. Niall hadn’t found anything suspicious amongst any of them, or the staff, and so they’d needed to settle for the fact that they still had no leads. 

They were waiting now for Liam’s first real contact with the pageant, the first event he’d have to attend as William Prince, a name that Zayn had stared at in disbelief when he’d seen it written in the paperwork. Louis had apparently assured Anthony it was perfect though, so Zayn had let it go, as ridiculous as it was. 

Liam was due to check in with his hidden camera and microphone soon to make sure they were working, and Niall had set up the largest screen they had to broadcast it, as well as chairs right in front for everyone to watch. The popcorn had been an addition Zayn hadn’t been expecting, but it’d lifted his spirits slightly. 

He snuck another handful, munching on it as Niall fiddled with a few switches at the back of the screen. Shawn seemed to be just as bored with the waiting and started throwing pieces of popcorn across the room, aiming for Zayn’s open mouth. They’d just managed ten in a row before the feed flickered to life, static-y and awful for a moment before it brightened to show Liam in a mirror, shaky but undeniably him.

He was fiddling with the camera where it was hidden in the flower on his lapel, Louis in the background shouting something about a tie clip. They were clearly in a hotel room, and even though Zayn had seen him early that morning, he still wanted to reach through the screen, straighten Liam’s tie for him and laugh about _anything_ , just something so Zayn could hear the way he snorted sometimes when a joke was stupid enough. He couldn’t though, and Liam couldn’t hear them, only Louis where he was on the phone to Niall, so all Zayn could do was shovel more popcorn into his mouth. An earpiece would’ve been too obvious in such close proximity with other contestants, and Louis should’ve briefed him enough this morning to make sure he didn’t run into any trouble. 

_“Hello? Testing, can you see me and hear me?”_

“We can hear him, mate,” Niall called to where Louis was on speaker. “Picture looks clear too. Should be good to go!”

Zayn studied Liam through the screen for a moment, letting their years of friendship rather than years of training determine how Liam was feeling. He was fidgeting, making his tie worse, moving from foot to foot as he pushed out a breath; nervous, but prepared. He kept moving to brush his hair off his face, but it’d been styled with a middle part, falling in soft waves across his forehead, and he kept catching himself, stopping before he could touch it. Uncomfortable with his new hair then, even when he looked so good Zayn was shifting in his seat. 

Zayn just wanted to tell him he looked amazing, that he’d do brilliantly, but Anthony was already staring at him from across the room, and he couldn’t risk it. 

_“Alright Horan, we’re going down now.”_ Louis’ voice was tinny through the speakers as he straightened Liam’s tie and affixed the tie clip. _“I’ll be with you guys in about five, I’ll leave Liam in the lobby to fend for himself.”_

Zayn could only see Louis’ suit jacket up close, blurry in the camera, but Liam’s sarcastic voice was still crisp through the mic. _“Thanks mate, appreciate it.”_

_“You’re welcome! Can’t hold your hand the entire time, Payne. Alright, let’s go.”_

The feed was slightly shaky as Louis and Liam moved to the foyer, the team gathering around Zayn and Niall where they were seated, bowl of popcorn on Niall’s lap. They could hear Louis whispering to Liam, words of soft encouragement, and then Louis disappeared from view. Zayn heard Liam take a deep breath, drawn out and shaky, and all Zayn wanted was to be able to calm him down, press their foreheads together until Liam smiled. Instead, he heard a whispered _fuck_ from him that made Niall laugh, and he settled back into his seat. 

He kept his eyes on the screen as Liam moved into the hall, and then there were people _everywhere_ , round tables with chairs scattered around the room. It was extravagantly decorated, shades of gold and white draped over the walls and used to make centrepieces that made Zayn cringe. There was a long table on a stage at the front of the room, which looked ridiculous until Zayn realised Simon was sitting behind it, as well as a podium with a microphone. 

“I recognise a few people from the pictures of the contestants that Simon sent over,” Niall mumbled through a mouthful. “Might learn a bit about them when Liam takes a seat.” 

Zayn made a sound of agreement, trying to find anything in the room he could analyse, but the camera feed wasn’t the clearest and Liam was shifting through people and brushing past crowds. It was a solid 20 minutes before everyone seemed to be finding their seats. There’d been a lot more people than Zayn had been expecting with only 30 contestants, but there were probably stakeholders and board members, possibly coaches too. The only reason Louis wasn’t there was because he didn’t want to be around Simon and the rest of the pageant community, wasn’t ready to handle it, and once Zayn had filled Anthony and the team in this morning, Anthony had accepted the reasoning right away. 

As though Zayn had summoned him purely by thought, Louis slipped into the room.

“Morning all, how you all doing?” 

Everyone called back greetings of their own and Zayn patted the chair next to him, grinning at Louis when he threw himself down into it. 

“Hey mate, how are you feeling?” Louis clapped Zayn on the shoulder, looking up at the screen.

Zayn followed his gaze, watching as Liam sat down at a table, surrounded by faces that seemed vaguely familiar. He shrugged, and he could tell it was half hearted when Louis looked at him curiously. “‘m alright. He looks nervous though, how was he with you?” He flinched when Niall hissed at him to be quiet, leaning past Louis to wave his apologies.

“He was alright,” Louis whispered, pushing his fringe back from his face, eyes still trained on where Liam was reaching for a glass of water. “He definitely knows how to slip into a different persona. It’s weird because he really didn’t change all that much, but that’s what made it impressive, I think.” They could hear Liam introducing himself as Will, hear vague introductions made back to him, but Louis was still talking, ignoring Anthony’s exasperated look. “I feel like it’s harder to shift little things about yourself rather than a total makeover, you know?” 

Zayn agreed completely. It was more an act when you had to be a totally different person, so it was easier to fall into. You could throw yourself into it with no reservations. If you only needed to change small details though, like Liam needed to on this assignment, it was habit to shift back into who you actually were, easy to forget about the tiny details you’d changed, and it was imperative undercover to make sure the person you were, was different. The lines got too blurred otherwise, and all it did was end in disaster. 

It’d always been one of Liam’s biggest strengths, something that he’d worked on with Zayn to ensure he’d be as safe as possible before his first assignment years ago. Zayn was always incredibly grateful for what Liam had taught him, for the knowledge and skills that he had, but especially when he was out in the field. The better he was at this, the better the chance they had, and the safer Liam would be. 

Niall shushed them again when Zayn went to answer. “He’s shifted tables, we need to actually listen to the introductions, shut your mouth.”

Zayn frowned, eyes back on the screen as Liam settled into a different chair. “Why’s he moved?”

“Sat at the wrong place, apparently.” Niall snorted, offering popcorn to Anthony.

“Which,” Anthony added, picking through the snack in his hand until he found what must’ve been the best piece, “you would’ve known if you’d been listening. Don’t make me separate the two of you, this isn’t high school.” 

“Sorry, sir.”

Zayn paid attention now, watching as Liam, or ‘Will’, introduced himself to four men sitting around him. It was easier to tell everyone apart now that Liam was sitting with them instead of trying to pick apart everyone spread around the room, and Zayn flipped through the file Niall had gathered on the contestants as they all shook Liam’s hand.

Thomas. 28 year old banker, married with a 2 year old son. Black hair, blue eyes, but they were different from his picture; contacts then. A pageant veteran moving up towards the last of his events, if Louis was to be believed, although he hadn’t won so far. He seemed genuine when he shook Liam’s hand, a wide smile on his face, but it looked like he squeezed a bit too hard, intimidation surely the aim. Someone with that much experience would know all the tricks, know all the right things to do and how to charm. Zayn made a mental note to watch him closely. 

Apparently so did Shawn, but for an entirely different reason. “Those _eyes_. I didn’t realise this case would mean so much eye candy.” 

Niall made a displeased sound in the back of his throat, turning to throw a handful of popcorn at him. “Oi, I have blue eyes too, you know.”

“His are contacts anyway,” Zayn added, eyes still on the screen while Liam met someone else. “Maybe this lad’s are real.”

Kyle, Zayn quickly read. 22 years old and his first pageant. Blond hair, blue eyes, a couple of tattoos dotted on his hands. Cocky and self assured, he winked at Liam; inappropriate. Not nervous, his hand steady and sure. Instantly started talking about his PT business, so Zayn tuned back into the conversation in the room. 

“ - and as if you can’t tell that this guy would ghost you the second you said you were looking for something serious,” Louis added, pulling his legs up to sit cross legged, his knee gently thumping against Zayn’s leg.

“Are you just saying that because his name’s Kyle?” Kirby raised her eyebrows at him, but there was a smirk on her face.

“That is _irrelevant_.”

Anthony held up his hand, eyes closed. “While I’m glad you’re all,” he paused, sighing, “appreciating the view, please make sure to concentrate on, you know, your actual jobs.”

“We’re good at multitasking, boss,” Niall chirped back at him, settling further into his seat as he passed Louis the bowl of popcorn. 

There was a small smile on Anthony’s face though, even as he rolled his eyes, and Zayn couldn’t help but grin at him. It was important that the team had their ways of relaxing, especially during cases like this, and it’d always been reassuring that Anthony let them have that, let them joke and laugh as long as they got the job done. Zayn thought Anthony seemed like a contradiction from the outside; supportive and soft, but harsh and authoritative when needed. He wasn’t though, both sides of him combining to make, realistically, the perfect boss. 

It was hard at the moment though, when Anthony grinned back at him, to connect him with the man who’d just given Zayn a direct order to stay away from Liam, and harder still to imagine what he’d do if he found out Zayn was planning on breaking it.

There was another man on screen now though, so Zayn swallowed heavily and moved his focus.

Canaan. 25 years old, second pageant. Black hair, brown eyes, facial hair. Easy to see that he looked after his skin, and when he smiled at Liam, it was slightly fake, guarded. Didn’t trust easily, then. Big on social media, already had a following.

“He’s gorgeous.”

“He’s gay, Kirby,” Louis deadpanned, throwing popcorn into the air and trying to catch it in his mouth. “I have a knack for these things.”

She rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t mean he’s not gorgeous.”

Then Liam shifted to introduce himself to the last man sitting with them, the camera moving with him, and Zayn and Louis had startlingly different reactions.

Zayn frowned and flipped through the file again, searching for the curls and green eyes up on the screen that he knew he hadn’t seen before. Niall looked equally concerned, sitting forward and squinting to try and get a better look, but Zayn’s stomach was dropping the longer he searched through pages and photos. He didn’t recognise him at all, this _Harry_ as he introduced himself with bright eyes and _dimples_ , couldn’t find him in the paperwork, and while there was always going to be a curve ball during an assignment like this, he hadn’t expected it to happen in the first 10 minutes.

Louis, on the other hand, had almost dropped the bowl he was holding and choked on the popcorn in his mouth. Zayn reached over distractedly to slap him on the back as he coughed, and then turned to Niall.

“Did you miss one? I don’t recognise him at all.”

Niall looked downright offended. “I absolutely didn’t miss one. There wasn’t a Harry on the list.” He stood to get his phone, punching in numbers and moving to the far corner. “Give me a bit, I’ll figure it out. You alright, mate?”

It was directed at Louis, and when Zayn looked at him, still lightly patting his back, he was staring at the screen, wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. It didn’t take someone with Zayn’s training to figure it out; attraction, pure and simple.

Zayn hid a smile. “Louis? You alright?”

“He’s gorgeous, who the fuck is _he_?”

“If you’d been paying attention, you’d know that we have no idea.” Zayn took a moment to study him, something ugly swirling in his stomach that he wasn’t sure about.

Harry. Looked to be in his mid-twenties, brown curly hair past his shoulders and green eyes. Wearing a patterned suit that Zayn wasn’t sure anyone else could’ve pulled off. Swimming in jewellery, hands covered in rings as he kept _touching_ Liam’s _arm_ when he laughed _._ Wasn’t flirting, seemed genuine, just friendly; maybe too friendly and didn’t know personal boundaries.

Liam didn’t seem to mind though, laughing back at him and shifting closer. Zayn shook his head to try to clear it, ignoring Louis’ constant running commentary about how Harry’s hair shone in the light, and tried to listen to the conversation. Harry was engaging, welcoming and kind, but it was almost too much, like it was an act, a way to charm anyone so he could get what he wanted. The whole group was chatting now, conversation flowing about how they’d ended up there, and it was almost wholesome listening to all their hopes and dreams, even if they were all there to compete against each other.

Except that Zayn had no idea who Harry was, and he _still_ wouldn’t stop touching Liam.

“Right, so I just got off the phone with Annie and asked her why she didn’t send me the right fuckin’ list.” Niall rolled his eyes as he sat back down, throwing his phone onto the table. “She sent me the right list at the time, but they had a drop out yesterday and Harry filled the spot. They just didn’t tell me.”

The way that Louis’ eyes kept glancing back at the screen would’ve been impressive if Zayn could quash the unease at Harry’s grin. “Who is he then? What’s my future husband’s name?”

Niall snorted. “Cox. His name’s Harry Cox. Annie sent over the police check and everything, he’s spotless.”

“His last name is not _actually_ Cox,” Louis cackled, but then Harry laughed on the screen too, and his attention was gone again.

Zayn tried to focus on anything other than Harry for the rest of the brunch, but he stuck to Liam like glue, an easy friendship already building as they got more comfortable with each other and Zayn had to try hard not to snap something. There was no way to know if he would’ve felt this way if Louis hadn’t casually dropped a bomb about Zayn’s feelings. He might’ve, easily could’ve played it off as a piece of the frustrated puzzle he was trying to solve about how to see Liam, but there was no point in pretending this was something it wasn’t; it was jealousy, pure and simple, and Zayn had absolutely no idea how to handle it.

So, he didn’t. He buried it, pushed it underneath a thin layer of thoughts and tried to forget it, even as it threatened to crack his very foundations.

He took notes on Annie as she stared at Simon for most of the morning, a disturbing show of feelings broadcast on her face, and tried to record the actions of anyone who seemed slightly shady. It was difficult in a room full of people trying their best to impress, metaphorical masks scattered throughout the crowd until the only people Zayn thought were genuine were Liam and Harry.

Somehow, it made Harry _less_ trustworthy. Everyone was playing the game right now, putting on an act; maybe Harry’s was simply good enough that it didn’t seem like one at all.

The meeting seemed to end abruptly, everyone dispersing quickly as all of the contestants were sent back to their hotel rooms. They’d been lucky that Liam’s roommate hadn’t been there earlier, hopefully not there now when they needed Louis to go back to him to debrief. Niall had just gotten a call to confirm they had a suite in the hotel, somewhere they could work close by and that was near a service elevator to sneak in and out if they needed. Louis came with them and helped lug their gear up to the suite, Niall refusing to let anyone else touch his stuff and needing 5 trips on his own. Zayn and Louis had made three on their own already and Zayn had needed to drag him out while he was giving himself a tour. Eventually, there was nothing left to bring up, and Zayn was alone with Louis in the lift, the last boxes of files at his feet.

He hesitated, aware that what he was about to ask Louis to do was in direct opposition to an order from the head of a government department. “Louis?”

“Yeah?”

Zayn took a deep breath and crossed his fingers behind his back. “I want you to take me to see Liam.”

“Okay.”

He blinked, staring at Louis until he turned to look at him. “What?”

Louis raised an eyebrow, shrugging and bending down to pick up one of the boxes. “I said ‘okay’. What’s the issue?”

“Anthony gave me a direct order not to see him.” Zayn picked up the last two boxes and carried them out into the hallway, stopping for a moment to readjust his hold. “I probably should’ve started with that.”

“I already knew that.”

Zayn heard movement down the hall and lifted the boxes to hide his face. “Why will you take me there, then?”

Louis snorted. “Because I know even if I don’t, you’ll go there anyway and then I’ll have to explain that I _could’ve_ gone with you and didn’t and that’s almost worse. At least if I’m there, or drop you off and leave with you, I can make sure nobody attacks you and Anthony doesn’t find out.”

It was a big risk for someone that would definitely be fired, who hadn’t really known Zayn long enough to risk it all for him. He told Louis as much, and Louis just laughed, a soft thing that echoed through the hallway when they stopped at the door to the suite.

“Niall gave me a heads up that you’d probably do this, so I was waiting for you to ask.” Louis put the box down and spun around, hands on his hips. “You should know, though. I think it’s stupid. I understand that you want to see him, and I’m honestly sorry for dropping everything on you yesterday and probably making it worse, but you’ll have to be so careful not to be seen, Zayn. The whole point of Liam doing this was because you can’t be recognised. You’re putting yourself in danger. I’ll still help you, but just be careful.”

Zayn swallowed hard and nodded. “I will.”

It was surprisingly easy to sneak down to Liam’s hotel room five floors below when Anthony had to go back to headquarters. Niall just rolled his eyes at the two of them and promised to text when Anthony was heading back so Zayn could come back up. They’d all be ruined if Anthony found out, would most likely be suspended or fired, but Zayn needed to see him, couldn’t scratch the itch under his skin.

He let Louis go in first, making sure there was no roommate around before he snuck in, squeezing past Louis as he left straight away, clapping Zayn on the shoulder as he left. Liam was already talking, taking his tie off with his back to the door and not realising Louis had left, so Zayn just leant against the door and watched him.

He looked amazing, even from the back, the grey suit perfectly tailored, his hair soft and inviting, but Zayn restrained himself to let Liam finish.

“ – and I think it went alright. I realised straight away that I didn’t recognise Harry from the files, so I’m not sure how that slipped through but I thought if I stuck around him most of the day, I could figure out as much as possible.” Relief flooded through Zayn immediately at the realisation it’d been for work, but it was gone just as quickly when Liam continued. “He’s so great though, Tommo. I think you’d really like him. He’s so witty, and a total crack up, and just sweet. He’s my roommate, which is lucky, because - .”

Zayn tried to keep his mouth shut, but the words burst through anyway. “I thought your roommate was Zack?”

Liam spun around immediately, a smile already on his face before he threw his tie onto his bed, crossed the room, and pulled Zayn into his arms with a laugh. “Babe, what are you doing here? I should’ve known it wasn’t Louis, he never stops talking. I’m surprised Chewy let you come here, he told me I shouldn’t text you. Wasn’t sure when I’d get to see you.”

Liam didn’t know about the direct order, then. If he did, there was no way he’d be so casual about it. It was almost exactly what Zayn had needed though, even after less than 12 hours apart, so he shoved his face into the crook of Liam’s neck and hugged him back. There was still a niggling there, the thought frustrating even to Zayn, the fact that he couldn’t let it go even when Liam was here with him and the rest of his mind was slowing down.

“I thought Zack was your roommate,” he repeated, fingers clenching in Liam’s suit jacket.

Liam pulled back just enough to cup the back of Zayn’s head. “He was, but I think he must’ve dropped out? Harry said he was a last minute replacement for someone, must’ve been Zack.”

Zayn scowled even as he tightened his arms around Liam’s waist, looking down at their shoes. “He’s affectionate, hey?”

“Who, Harry?”

“Yeah. He was touching you a lot. Just weird, I dunno.”

He hated the words as they came out of his mouth, hated that he felt so vulnerable in a space he normally didn’t need to worry. He tried to keep his tone casual, but Liam knew him too well and there was no point in really trying to hide his frustration.

Liam pulled back, his brows furrowed as he slid his hand around to Zayn’s chin. Zayn let his chin be tilted, tried to let his face go blank as Liam stared at him, but Liam’s eyes widened just a fraction, and Zayn knew he’d been figured out.

“You’re – you’re _jealous._ Zayn why?” Liam sounded genuinely concerned, and Zayn tried to duck his head again. “Hey, sorry babe, sorry, I just don’t understand. You’ve never worried about stuff like this before, me being touchy with other mates.”

Fuck, Zayn knew he was being ridiculous, that he was being irrational and _obvious_ , which didn’t even make sense when he wasn’t even sure how he _felt_.

“It’s different with Harry,” he almost spat out, trying to pull back but one of Liam’s arms was still around his waist. “Like he was flirting with you.”

Liam looked so lost, and Zayn felt awful but it was like Louis had opened a locked box and everything Zayn had ever felt, irrational or not, was pouring out of him. Liam didn’t say anything, just kept studying Zayn’s face; Zayn _hated_ being profiled. The grip loosened on his chin and a thumb slid through his beard along his jawline and made him shiver. He looked at Liam, their eyes meeting just before Zayn’s flicked to Liam’s lips.

Zayn had always thought Liam was attractive, had had thoughts of kissing him, touching him, sleeping with him in a way that he always laughed off. Zayn didn’t feel like laughing right now though, and maybe, if he just kissed Liam _once_ , he’d be able to figure out whatever he was feeling. 

He’d been staring at Liam’s mouth for too long now though, and when his panicked gaze flew back to Liam’s eyes, there was something hiding in them, undercutting the surprise there as well as the way his fingers had shifted to stroke the shell of Zayn’s ear.

“Li, I – I don’t know what I’m doing,” Zayn whispered even as he moved his head forward, knocking their noses together.

He didn’t really need an answer, even as his heart raced and he felt like he wasn’t getting enough air. His fingers felt like they were tingling, desperate for touch in a way that didn’t lessen when he twisted them in Liam’s shirt under his jacket.

He didn’t need an answer, but he got one anyway, because this was _Liam_.

“You don’t have to know,” Liam murmured, and Zayn closed his eyes against the undeniable _heat_ that pooled in his stomach. “I’ve got you anyway. Always.”

All Zayn would have to do was pitch forward slightly, maybe let Liam pull him in by the grip on his waist. It’d be fine, just an experiment to see what they’d be like. It didn’t have to _mean_ anything and -

Three sharp knocks against the door startled them both and they jumped apart, as though whoever was on the other side of the door could see them.

“Zayn you’ve gotta go, Anthony’s coming back.” It was Louis, and Zayn swore under his breath.

Liam looked almost stunned, like he’d only just realised what they’d been about to do, and Zayn couldn’t stand it. He darted forward to press a lingering kiss on Liam’s cheek, moving back further when Liam reached for him.

“I have to go.” He backed towards the door, trying to tell himself that he couldn’t stay here forever. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay? You’re doing brilliantly.”

“Soon,” Liam promised, his face softening as he blew Zayn a kiss. “Soon, Zayn.”

“Bye,” Zayn whispered, and then he was bolting out the door and past Louis, ignoring whatever was shouted at him, and made it back up to their suite only a minute before Anthony did.

The suite had a couple of bedrooms, a lounge room and a dining table, a kitchen and a proper bathroom with a bath that Zayn had been eyeing off earlier during Louis’ self guided, impromptu tour. Now though, he just locked himself in the bathroom, splashed water on his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His cheeks were flushed and he rubbed his hands down his face with a groan. Fuck, that was so _stupid_. They were in the middle of a high profile case, one that the media was already all over and that required a serious undercover assignment. He couldn’t be out there kissing his best friend and partner for _fun_ , just to see.

Fucking _stupid_. Maybe Anthony had been right to try and separate them.

He patted his face dry with a sigh before heading back into the lounge room, watching curiously as Anthony spoke quickly into his phone, standing near the TV while the rest of the team was spread out over the couches and chairs. Zayn sat down next to Niall, and the second he did, Niall was on him.

“What happened? I can tell from your face that something’s up. You can tell me anything, you know?” His voice was a low murmur, cautious of the people around them who were chatting.

Zayn did know. He trusted Niall with so many aspects of his life, had confided in him more times than he could count, but this was something he needed to keep close to his chest, tucked inside until he’d figured it out.

“Nah man, I’m fine.”

Before Niall could argue, Anthony was off the phone and turning to face them, still thumbing at it as he addressed them all. “Sorry, I just got off the phone with the lab with some results, I’m just going to get Liam on the line.”

Zayn heard Liam’s voice coming through the speaker of Anthony’s phone, and it felt like it’d been hours since he’d last seen him, not minutes. Anthony’s eyes were trained on him, and he realised he definitely shouldn’t be so calm about Liam being on the phone if he was supposed to act like he hadn’t just seen him. He scooted closer to the coffee table where Anthony had put his phone and waited for him to nod, rolling his eyes even as he spoke.

“Hey Li, you did so well.” Zayn held his breath and stared at the phone, willing Liam to play along perfectly. He shouldn’t have worried.

There was a brief pause, one only Zayn would notice. _“Zaynie, miss you. Thanks babe.”_

“Alright, so we’ve had a few bits of information come back.” Anthony clasped his hands behind his back, looking over them all as Zayn’s brain seemed to almost _click_ back into the case. “The unsub slipped up on the last victim, which we thought they would. The substance in the victim’s hair was nail polish, and it’s the same brand that sponsors the pageant.”

Zayn wrinkled his nose, thinking back to the odd red streak. “Nail polish? It would’ve had to have been wet at the time.”

“Precisely, but that’s not all. The wound in the neck this time was rough enough that they were able to figure out the shape of the object used after the knife.” He moved to lean against the wall closer to the phone, ensuring Liam could hear him. “They believe it’s a stiletto.”

_“As in, the shoe?”_

Anthony nodded and then seemed to remember Liam couldn’t see him. “Yes. I think we need to be looking for a woman.”

Zayn shook his head softly, mouth turned down slightly at the edges. He cleared his throat, and everyone turned to look at him. “Isn’t that a bit sexist, sir? Men can just as easily wear nail polish and high heels, and even if they weren’t actually wearing them, they could be a red herring.”

_“I agree, sir. I don’t know if it’s the right direction, the profile so far points to a white male.”_

Anthony rolled his eyes, sighing. “As surprised as I am that you two are agreeing, the profile as it stands now is lacklustre, through no fault of your own. It’s the only lead we have, and I need you to look into it.”

Except that Zayn had already realised that he didn’t need to. _A pop of colour in a room of greys and blacks._

He closed his eyes and exhaled sharply through his nose. “Simon’s secretary, Annie. She currently has red nails.”

“Great. I want you to talk to her first, suss it out,” Anthony said pointedly, head inclined towards Zayn. “Alright, that’s all for now. Horan, the labs are sending over all the specifics…”

Zayn let Anthony’s voice fade out as he tried to think about it rationally. He’d have to get Annie’s background from Niall, maybe talk to Louis about her and find out what he knew. It didn’t seem _right,_ like he’d be wasting time, but by the time he went to tell Liam his ideas on the phone, Anthony had already hung up the call.

Maybe it was just as well this time.


	5. IV

“Alright, so tomorrow’s the big day, first pageant day.” Louis clapped his hands together, startling Liam where he was perched on the end of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

Liam shrugged, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I feel good, ready. Bit nervous, but it’s pretty normal at this stage.”

“You did really well at brunch today. I knew you’d smash it, but the way you spoke to all the judges was brilliant.” Louis leant back against the desk in the corner of the room, feet crossed at the ankles in front of him. “You’ll have them eating out of the palm of your hand before long. You handled the other contestants brilliantly as well. A lot of contestants can be really arrogant, just massive arseholes, but you seem to have gotten a good group this year.”

It’d been more difficult than Liam had been expecting, trying to fit in at brunch. The lads at this table had been nice guys, talkative and kind, especially Harry, but he’d been expecting it to be a simple, casual meal. He thought there’d be chatting and jokes, food and polite conversation, but there were so many rules he hadn’t known about. Liam had overheard a group of men making fun of Canaan’s tie, but it wasn’t just that. The way they spoke also held pure venom and disbelief, like Canaan had broken a serious rule that wasn’t to be forgiven. The judges were already looking at them, cataloguing everything to influence their overall decision for the pageant, and Liam was grateful for all of the training that Louis had given him so far.

He’d tried to impress the judges as much as possible, charming Miriam Goldwater and Sophie Chu easily, complimenting Adam Tyler on his tie pin and Lance Groll on his belt to show he had an eye for fashion. They’d loved him, but it’d all been for show; Liam supposed that didn’t make him all that different from the other contestants, though. He’d been able to feel the eyes of the other men on him, watching him cautiously as he played nice with the judges. It’d surely earned him a few enemies, but he wasn’t the only one. 

Harry had rubbed a couple of people the wrong way, purely because he was so kind. The judges had loved him too, as had almost everyone else he’d introduced himself to. He’d stuck to Liam for most of the time, prepared but nervous in a way that showed when he fiddled with his rings. 

Liam had still felt slightly unsettled though, slightly off kilter because he’d never been involved in something that required him to be judged so harshly, had never been in a room surrounded by very attractive men where one of the main goals was to be compared to them. He didn’t know how he was supposed to win this, and there was an added layer of pressure outside of his standard undercover duties.

“Thanks, I think it went alright.” Liam rubbed at his eyes and yawned, the long day taking its toll now that it was past 9pm. “Is there a lot we have to do tonight?”

“Not really. I wasn’t expecting you to do so well today, to be honest.” Louis pushed off from the desk and started peering at Harry’s side of the room. “I’d set aside tonight to work more on the way you held yourself and how you spoke, but you seemed to pick it up really well already.”

Liam perked up. “Do I get tonight off then?”

“Not quite. I just want to run through the details of what’ll happen tomorrow.” Louis was still distracted, taking in the open box of rings sitting on Harry’s bedside table. “You need to get some sleep, anyway. I haven’t met your roommate yet, where is he?”

“Not sure,” Liam shrugged, watching as Louis poked at one of the rings. “Stop that. I think he’s down with some of the others at the gym.”

“Should have time then. He won’t think it’s weird if I’m here anyway because I’m your coach, but you should know that he’ll think it’s very strange if anyone else is here.” He raised his eyebrow and moved to the window, pulling back the curtain. “Contestants aren’t supposed to have guests, and I know that some of the team might drop by at some point, but you’ll have to try and time it when he’s out. Sometimes people sneak in their partners for a bit, but it’s heavily frowned upon. Did you know there’s an indoor pool just down there?”

“Does that mean no more visits from Zayn?” Liam’s heart sank a bit at the thought. Not being able to text him was already difficult, and the thought of not seeing Zayn the whole time he was undercover was something he didn’t really want to imagine.

Louis seemed confused when he spun back around, eyebrows knitted together. “I mean, I’ll try and sneak him in when I can, but there’s the extra danger of Anthony in that situation too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you not know?” Louis immediately seemed to realise he’d put his foot in it as he grimaced. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell you, mate.”

A number of possibilities flew into Liam’s head, and none of them were good. “Just tell me, Louis. I can’t even text Zayn, so he can’t tell me himself.”

Louis sighed, stretching his legs out in front of him and tapping Liam’s foot with his. “Anthony gave him a direct order to stay away from you.”

It was like someone had flicked a switch in Liam’s head, like all the noise and images that usually sat there were silenced. “I – why?!”

“I don’t know, mate. All I know is that I can help sneak Zayn in to see you, and vice versa, if you want, but you need to be careful.” Louis got up then, ruffling Liam’s hair as he went to grab his laptop. “Niall was telling me it’s a big risk, that Zayn could get suspended or something, but he didn’t seem to care. He just wanted to see you and make sure you were alright, I think.”

Such a _Zayn_ thing to do, to put himself at risk for the benefit of someone else. Anthony had always appreciated how they worked together, and knew they worked better _together_ , so the only explanation he had was that it’d be too dangerous for Zayn, would increase his chances of being seen. He said as much to Louis when he sat back down, but Louis just made a confused noise.

“Well yeah, but the murderer knows that Zayn’s here somewhere. It’s not like they didn’t purposefully mention the pageant in the riddle, so they’d be expecting MI5 to be here.” Louis was scrolling, eyes on the screen as Liam tried to follow his rationale. “Zayn couldn’t go _undercover_ because they knew him, but they already know he works with MI5. He can’t be seen _with_ you I’d imagine, but if they see him wandering the halls, I doubt it’d come as a shock.”

It reminded Liam of how much this seemed like a trap, that they’d been brought here for a reason, but the profile still suggested that the unsub thought themselves too smart to be caught, that they’d revel in the way they’d murdered an innocent man right under their noses. What Louis was saying was valid; the unsub knew they were here, knew that Zayn was part of the team. The main danger came from seeing him with Liam and blowing his cover. Anthony’s order just seemed more confusing now though because Zayn and Liam had always known how to be subtle in their communications during an assignment.

Liam sighed, throwing himself backwards on the bed and covering his face with his hands. “It’s just gonna be harder for me not to see him.”

“Why? I know you’re close, but surely you can go a small amount of time without seeing him.” There was an edge to Louis’ voice, not negative but probing, regardless of how casual he was trying to sound.

“I just work better with him around, that’s all. It’s all I’ve known my whole career.”

Silence hung heavily in the room, not awkward, just _there_. “Right. Well, I’ll do what I can anyway. Sit up, you lug. We can’t go down to your dressing room, so I’ll have to show you pictures of your suit for tomorrow. The government sparing no expense and paying for the wardrobe has been the best part of this for me so far.”

That got Liam’s attention, and he pushed himself back up with a grunt. “What’s the second best?”

Louis smirked, eyes still focused on the screen. “Getting to meet your very pretty partner.” Liam bristled, his hands twitching, but then Louis snuck a glance up at him and laughed. “Oh, come now, I’m just kidding. Zayn’s not my type, but your reaction is fascinating.”

“What do you mean?” Liam shifted when Louis moved to sit next to him, a glare still fixed on his face. “Maybe I just don’t like seeing him objectified.”

Louis hummed. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s something else, too. I don’t have to be a fancy profiler to be able to read people.” He nudged Liam with his knee, but Liam hardly felt it. If Louis could see it then the whole team probably knew. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Louis’ voice was quiet as he clicked around the screen, and Liam was grateful he’d been given the choice.

“Not really.” He cleared his throat, looking to Louis’ screen to see he was clicking randomly. “Not yet.”

“Alright.” It was simple with Louis, no prying or jabs, and Liam had the fleeting thought that he wanted to stay in touch with him after this was all over. “Now, this is what you’ll be wearing tomorrow. Say one word about the colour and I’ll slap you.”

The suit was a dusty pink, tones of grey making the shade cooler. The model in the photo was wearing a white t-shirt and white sneakers, but Liam doubted he’d be the same. “Why would I say anything about the colour? I like it.”

“Too bad if you didn’t because you’d be wearing it regardless.” Louis clicked to go to the next picture, a collage of sorts. “You clearly won’t be wearing sneakers with it, because I’m not a heathen and this is the official first impression you’re giving to the judges and the first time that the crowd will see you. You’ll be wearing these black shoes and patterned socks, and no tie. This white shirt’s gonna be buttoned up the whole way so it sits nicely against your neck, and I want you to wear one of your watches with a black leather band.”

The outfit wasn’t the first thing Liam ever would’ve worn if given the choice, but there was no denying that Louis knew exactly what he was doing. “Too easy. Do I need to cover my tattoos on my hand? We’ve got makeup for it.”

Louis was already shaking his head. “No, I think people will love them, and it’s a contrast to your personality. I know it’s dumb, but there’s always going to be the assumption in this part of the world that people with tattoos, especially as many as you have, are slightly rough around the edges. You’re a ray of fucking sunshine, so people are gonna love it. I spoke to Anthony about it and he said you usually cover them for work and other assignments, so I think the chances of it being a problem are slim to none.”

“Is it the only outfit I have to wear tomorrow?”

“Yeah, these things are always really drawn out, just one event a day,” Louis explained, even though Liam already knew it, had the schedule on his desk. “It makes them go on forever, but it’s helpful when you need as much time as possible to catch a serial killer, I suppose.”

Liam snorted. “You’re not wrong. Hair and makeup?”

“Sorted. They have a team of hairdressers and makeup artists that do it all for you. I’ve already sent them what I want, which is just your hair the same as today, middle part and soft, and very minimal makeup.” Louis clicked through some pictures, but Liam could hardly tell the men were wearing any makeup at all. “It’s not part of your aesthetic, and while we might chuck some eyeliner on you at some point, we’re not gonna go all out.”

He was grateful, but not because he had anything against wearing it. It just always felt heavy against his skin and made him itch, although that had probably boiled down to the quality of the product.

“Alright, easy. What exactly do I need to do?”

“For the whole day, or the event?”

“Both.”

Louis pulled up a running sheet and Liam rested his head on his shoulder to read it. Louis looked down at him and grinned. “I like how affectionate you lads are.” He rested his own head gently on top of Liam’s, and Liam relaxed into it. “You’ll need to be up at about 6am, and I’d recommend popping down to the gym before you get breakfast. I’ll meet in the dining room downstairs at about seven so we can go over any little last-minute things, but we’ll head to your dressing room after that.”

He’d heard Louis mention it earlier, but it hadn’t really clicked. “I get my own dressing room?”

“Yep,” Louis popped the _p_ and the top of Liam’s head vibrated from the movement. “It’s a real proper thing, Payno. You’ll need to head to the stage at about eight, I’d imagine, just to run through the order you all have to walk out and where to stand afterwards. It’ll be hair and makeup after that, and that could take a couple of hours while everyone else gets sorted too. The event doesn’t start until two, so there’s plenty of time for you to get dressed after that. Usually I’d want you dressed before hair and makeup, but there’s nothing that needs to go over your head tomorrow.”

“And the actual event?”

“It’s just a short one tomorrow, an introduction pretty much.” Louis pulled up a clip on his laptop, and Liam watched as men walked around the stage, introduced themselves at a microphone and then stood in formation against a slightly garish backdrop. “There’s no choreography or anything in the men’s pageants usually, just organisation. You tend to walk with confidence anyway, but it’s a quiet kinda confidence. I need you to walk a bit more animated, you can wave to the crowd if you want, they’ll love that.” He pointed at a man on the screen now. “See, don’t do that. You need to keep your chin up, but level, not so high that you’re looking at the roof. You need to have a constant smile on your face, but not as wide as that lad’s, Jesus that’s terrifying.”

Liam laughed, jostling the both of them. “So with teeth or without?”

“Both. You need to change it up. You’re gorgeous when you smile wide, makes you look soft and kind, but you have this little smirk thing you do that looks fucking hot. You need to do both because they’ll have different impacts on different people.”

“Are you always this forward with your clients?” Liam mused, trying to figure out what smiles he was talking about. He never saw _himself_ really though, so he tried to smile against Louis’ shoulder, testing out how different ones felt.

“My clients are usually my sisters, so no,” Louis laughed, nudging Liam with his shoulder until they both shifted apart. “It’s important you know your best assets, Payne. Your smile is one of them, and the judges are gonna love it. We should practice a couple.”

“That’s super weird.”

Louis just looked at him. “I could feel you doing it before, now come on. Show me your teeth, please.”

They practiced Liam’s different smiles, Liam twisting his mouth until it felt awkward to even have one and Louis had given him exact directions on which one was which and Liam got a text from Niall.

**_Hey mate, can you ask Louis for any info on Annie? Anthony wants to see if he knows anything._ **

Louis was putting his laptop away in its bag, his back to him when Liam cleared his throat. “What do you know about Simon’s assistant?”

“Annie?” Louis looked confused when he turned around, pausing where he was zipping the bag. “A bit, why?”

Liam chewed on his bottom lip. “Anthony wants us to look into her, so I figured I’d ask.”

Louis shrugged, zipping the bag and putting it carefully on the floor. “I don’t know a lot, but she’s a bit odd. Nice enough girl when Simon’s not around, but only because she desperately wants to fuck him.”

“Do you think she knew about the affairs?”

“It’s definitely possible. She follows him anywhere, she’d notice the men going in and out of his office.” Louis rubbed at his chin, a thoughtful look on his face. “She seems ditzy and a bit out of it, but she’s incredibly smart. She’s got two sisters and I know she loves Arsenal. Never misses a game.”

Liam pulled out his phone to text it all back to Niall. “Do you think the ditziness is just an act then?”

“I don’t think so. It’s kinda like people who are intelligent but not like, street smart, you know? I think she just genuinely has two different sides to her.”

He’d just sent the text off when the door swung open and Harry strolled in, shirtless and sweaty with a towel around his neck.

“Hey Harry, good workout?” Liam asked, putting his phone down on his bed.

The smile Harry sent him was almost blinding. “Hey! Yeah, it was great. I took longer than I thought, but I just really got into it. How’s your night been?”

“Good, good. Just running through some last-minute things with my coach.” He gestured towards Louis, who seemed frozen in place. “This is Louis. Louis, this is Harry, my roommate.”

If there had ever been a good time to be accidentally filming something, anything, it would’ve been right when Harry’s eyes met Louis’ so he could use it against Louis later. Liam couldn’t stop the snort he let out, but he tried to cover it with a cough and hid his grin behind his hand.

Both of their eyes were wide, Louis’ mouth slightly parted as he took in Harry’s chest, and Harry wasn’t faring any better. He was looking at Louis like he’d never seen anyone quite like him, and it was somehow the most wholesome and awkward thing Liam had ever seen.

“Hi,” Harry breathed, holding out his hand to Louis. “’m Harry.”

Louis cleared his throat, once, twice, a third time, and shook Harry’s hand. “Louis. I’m Louis, but you just heard him say that, so I should just stop talking.”

The dimples that appeared on Harry’s face were so deep that even Liam had to stop himself from getting up and poking at one. “Please don’t.”

Okay, it was awkward now, Liam seemingly forgotten as he swung his feet and tried not to interject. He let them flirt, horrendously if he was being honest, and grabbed his phone to scroll through his Instagram, liking a couple of his sister’s pictures. Niall had just texted back, a brief **_Thanks Payno! Xx_** when there was a knock on the door, and all of them turned in surprise.

Neither Harry or Louis seemed to want to move though, like it would break whatever weird mating ritual they were doing, so Liam just sighed and got up to open it. When he saw who it was, it was a close call between pulling him into the room or slamming the door in his face.

“Zayn, what are you doing?” He couldn’t be here, not when Harry was in the room and Liam panicked, closing the door part of the way and standing in the gap. “I – is everything alright?”

The confusion that crossed Zayn’s features melted quickly into hurt, but Liam couldn’t comfort him without opening the door properly. “I just thought I’d come and see you, is that – is that not okay?”

There was no right answer because Liam _always_ wanted to see Zayn, any time of the day no matter where they were, but Harry was just inside, and Zayn had direct orders to stay away from Liam. He must’ve taken too long to respond though, too lost in his own turmoil, because Zayn got frustrated and pushed the door open.

Zayn was always slightly shy when he first met people, a bit quiet and reserved until he got to know them, but he was always polite and sincere. Liam had never seen him dislike someone without at least giving them a chance, but Liam also hadn’t considered how it might look with Harry sweaty and shirtless in their room. He remembered Zayn’s odd jealousy just a beat too late when his eyes flashed and then narrowed. Liam stepped back, heart pounding in his chest at the look of venom on Zayn’s face, Louis being in the room apparently not enough to convince Zayn that nothing untoward had happened.

“This is Harry, he just came back from the _gym_ ,” Liam stressed, but Zayn didn’t even really move, and Harry didn’t even turn, apparently too distracted by the light grip Louis had on his forearm. “And see, Louis’ here too, we’re just going over some stuff before tomorrow.” He moved forward then, slowly cupping the back of Zayn’s neck, fingers gently stroking over his nape until Zayn turned to look at him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into _me?_ ” Zayn shot back, moving away from Liam’s touch and stepping further into the hallway. “Nothing’s gotten into me, I just wasn’t expecting your roommate to be half-naked when I came by to say good luck for tomorrow. My mistake.” He turned and walked away, and Liam was darting back in to grab his phone, calling Niall and waving goodbye to Louis and Harry, not that either of them noticed.

“Ni, do you know everywhere Zayn and I can go for some privacy?”

_“Hello to you, too. Privacy, huh?”_

Liam rolled his eyes, relieved when he could still see Zayn waiting impatiently at the lift. “Niall.”

_“Yeah yeah, ahhh. The pool’s closed after this time, and I can see no one’s in there anyway. I can turn the cameras off in there if you wanna sneak in.”_

“The pool? Really?”

_“You asked, I provided. What else do you want?”_

Liam sighed, coming to a stop next to Zayn who was resolutely ignoring him. “Fine. What floor?”

_“Third. There doesn’t seem to be anyone that you might run into, but I’ll send you a text if anyone wanders by.”_

Zayn had managed to get into the lift by now, so Liam said a rushed goodbye and shoved his phone in his pocket, just managing to get inside before Zayn closed the doors. He hit the button for the 3rd floor, ignoring Zayn’s annoyed sigh.

“What are you doing, Liam?”

“We need to have a chat, and the only place we can go is the indoor pool,” Liam explained as the lift dinged, putting a hand at the small of Zayn’s back to lead him down the hall.

“Seriously? It’s fine Liam, we’re fine.” Zayn sounded weary though, exhaustion even seeping through in the way he was holding himself, slumped shoulders and a slight frown.

Liam made sure to check around corners as they made their way to the pool, slipping through the doors easily when Niall messaged him to say he’d unlocked them remotely. It was a sure fire way for all of them to get fired, but if Anthony never found out, it didn’t matter.

The room was warm and smelled like chlorine, reminding Liam of when he was a kid and used to take swimming lessons. It was a decent size, the room washed in pale lighting that seemed to settle into the tiles rather than bounce off them. Liam kicked his shoes off, rolled his jeans up and sat on the edge of the pool, letting his feet dip into the warm water. He kicked his feet slightly, little splashes of water making waves when Zayn hesitantly sat down next to him cross legged. They were both silent for a minute, the only sounds in the room the soft noise of the water, until Zayn huffed out a breath.

“What are we doing here, Liam?” Zayn rarely got like this with Liam, and often months would go past before Liam even heard the tone again. There was always a time when Zayn needed to be slightly mollycoddled, held and spoken softly to, but this wasn’t it. This tone meant a frank conversation, and Liam was prepared for it.

He kept kicking his feet, little movements that made tiny whirlpools. It felt almost impossible to address Zayn’s jealousy over Harry without confronting his own feelings, so he locked all of that back into the box it’d been hiding in. “Louis told me about Chewy’s order. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Zayn froze where he was pulling at a loose thread in his jeans, making the hole in the knee bigger. “It would’ve just stressed you out more, and I didn’t want you to think you wouldn’t be able to see me or talk to me.”

“I get that, but we’re always honest, Zayn.” Liam kept watching the small ripples, both of them ignoring the bigger elephant in the room that was threatening to ruin everything. “What was his reason? It’s the only thing I can think of that would make a difference.”

It wasn’t a drastic movement when Liam felt Zayn shift, move closer to press up against him, but it was enough to let the tension bleed out of him. Zayn’s hand tentatively snuck out to wrap around Liam’s bicep. “He said I’d be a distraction.”

Liam recoiled slightly, moving back to look at Zayn. “A distraction? How?”

“Well, right now is a great example,” Zayn laughed, but it was flat. “I’ve taken you away from Louis and from getting rest. Pretty big distraction.”

“To be fair, I brought you here,” Liam joked, but when Zayn didn’t respond, he slid his arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. “Zayn, you’re not a distraction, at least not an unwelcome one. I get too much in my own head when you’re not around.” Zayn didn’t answer, but he did rest his head on Liam’s shoulder and nuzzled into his neck as Liam stopped his kicking. “I’m always going to want you around, although I don’t know what I’ll tell Harry if I keep disappearing.”

Zayn’s fingers were tickling lightly across Liam’s skin, making him shiver despite the warm water on his feet. “Can’t you just tell him you have visitors or something?”

Liam shook his head, running his hand down Zayn’s arm, content to have him this close. “We’re not supposed to have visitors. Louis said contestants sometimes sneak in partners, but that’s it.”

“We can pretend I’m your boyfriend, then. You know, if he asks.”

It was an innocent enough sentence, and it made sense, as long as Harry still didn’t see him. The problem was how badly Liam’s heart stuttered, how much it ached, and out of all the lies he’d be telling during the next couple of weeks, that one already cut the deepest.

“Yeah, we might have to.”

He wanted to stay there all night, just him and Zayn wrapped up in each other, but they didn’t really have any reason to. The water was warm though, and they _were_ at a swimming pool, so before he could lose his nerve, he pulled back from Zayn and stood. Zayn just watched him curiously as he pulled off his shirt and stripped out of jeans, leaving him in just his pants as he slid into the water.

The temperature was perfect, warming him through as he ducked his head under. He could hear Zayn’s startled laugh as soon as he surfaced, and after he shook his head to get rid of the water, he could see the disbelief on Zayn’s face.

“What the fuck are you up to?” Zayn laughed, happy and bright, and Liam celebrated internally. “Are you mad?”

Liam just grinned at him. “Why? We’re at a pool. It’s where people swim. I’m swimming.” Liam paddled to the other side and back, splashing happily but careful to keep it away from Zayn. “Get in with me.”

Zayn rolled his eyes, but Liam could see the tiny smile on his face. “You know I can’t swim. Also, there’s cameras in here. They’ve already got a good look at you, don’t wanna give them a full show.”

“Niall turned them off, so I think you’re fine.” Liam waggled his eyebrows, laughing when Zayn just looked at him warily. “C’mon, I’ll look after you.”

He waited, treading water and making little waves with his arms until he started floating on his back, arms wide out and eyes closed. It was peaceful, just him and Zayn and the gentle lap of the water as he started to drift away, so it startled him when there was a wave of water washing over him. He sputtered as he managed to find his footing, wiping water off his face as he spun to find Zayn sitting on the edge of the pool, innocent look on his face and his feet in the water, wearing only a black pair of pants. 

This may have been a bad idea. 

Liam’s fingers twitched with the need to _touch_ , to feel all of Zayn’s skin under his hands, smooth and soft and perfect. God he was stunning, tattoos dotting his skin, made up of sharp angles and strong muscle, and Liam had to pinch himself to get his control back. He’d seen Zayn almost naked before, but never when he’d been sure he was in love with him, and never when he was about to be dripping wet and surely touching him. 

“Well? Are you gonna come help me?” Zayn made grabby hands, and who was Liam to deny him anything? 

Liam swam over and stood upright in front of Zayn, holding his breath as he wrapped his arms around his waist. With a swift tug and a slight flail, Zayn was in the water and suddenly completely wrapped around him, legs around Liam’s waist and arms around his neck, and Liam wasn’t sure what to do. 

Their faces were so close that Liam would probably be able to taste Zayn’s lips if he licked his own, so he hoisted him up higher with an arm under his arse, and tried to forget who was in his arms. It was impossible when he was so close though, wide eyes and long lashes with his fingers tangled through Liam’s hair, _fuck_. 

He walked them slowly around the pool, soft footsteps and gentle bounces, going deeper until Zayn kicked at him and pouted. He was so on edge, well aware that if Zayn shifted slightly, he’d be able to feel _exactly_ how on edge Liam was. It was hard to concentrate on anything other than the way Zayn felt, skin against skin, warm and slick under his hands, and Liam’s mind was slowly filling up with every dirty thought that he’d ever had about Zayn. Liam didn’t even realise he’d stopped until Zayn tugged at his hair to get his attention. 

“Li? Not that I don’t enjoy being pressed against hard surfaces, but are you okay?” He tugged at Liam’s hair again, a little bit harder this time, and Liam couldn’t have stopped it if he tried. 

He groaned as the pain shot straight down to where he was already half hard, tightened his arms around Zayn and gripped his waist. He squeezed his eyes shut and stayed still, the water still lapping around them as Zayn shifted, but then one of Zayn’s hands was cupping Liam’s neck, and his eyes shot open. 

Zayn didn’t look angry or confused, or disgusted or even slightly concerned. He just looked curious as he studied Liam’s face, stroking along his jaw as Liam slid a careful hand up Zayn’s spine to settle between his shoulder blades.

“Liam,” Zayn whispered, eyes still roaming Liam’s face. He must’ve found what he was looking for though, before his face moved slightly closer, and Liam’s entire system felt like it shut down. 

He’d tried to convince himself that they hadn’t almost kissed earlier today, that it’d been an odd moment that could be written off, but he’d been stupid to push it to the side. He let his fingers move to slide into Zayn’s hair, holding back another groan when he felt him shiver, and secured Zayn’s legs more firmly around his waist with his other hand. Liam felt like he couldn’t _breathe_ properly, like every bit of oxygen was only used to fan the flames in his blood until he felt dizzy with it. Zayn’s skin was so soft under his palm as he let his hand skate up Zayn’s thigh, teasing and with clear intent, because _fuck it._ If it all went to shit, if Zayn told him he didn’t want him and it ruined everything, he could never say he hadn’t at least tried.

“Zayn.” He felt a huff of air against his lips as Zayn let out a shaky breath, and he pressed closer, pressing Zayn gently into the tiles behind him. “Zayn, I want - can I?” 

They were so close now that Liam nudged their noses together, tilting his head to the side as he scratched at Zayn’s scalp. There was a thrumming under his skin, a burning in the pit of his stomach, and he was well aware that this could ruin everything they’d worked towards. 

He paused, nose nudging Zayn’s cheek and lips almost brushing, trying to breathe when Zayn shifted his hips. Was this too big of a risk? Was it better to have Zayn in his life as just a friend and partner, regardless of whether he ever got over him or not? Would his career be ruined? 

But no verbal answer came, because Zayn had moved again, apparently impatient, and brushed their lips together gently, testing and cautious and soft, and Liam stopped thinking all together.

Zayn’s lips were soft where they pressed against Liam’s, full and slightly wet, and Liam took a sharp breath through his nose. He kept their lips touching, chaste and careful as he moved his hand to settle against Zayn’s neck. He could feel his heartbeat thrumming against his palm, strong and fast even when he broke the kiss to pull back.

Even if he hadn’t already thought Zayn was stunning, there was no denying it here, with just the two of them so tightly together that Liam knew there was no point in trying to get closer. He did anyway, letting his finger stroke under Zayn’s ear as he moved against him, watching in awe as Zayn’s eyes fluttered open. Liam let him take a shuddering breath before he moved back in, catching Zayn’s lips with his, pressing slightly harder until Zayn let out a tiny whimper.

He’d spent too much time thinking about kissing Zayn recently, imagining how it’d feel and what he’d do, but he’d never really imagined it like this; so incredibly delicate and careful, like one of them was scared the other might break.

Or maybe just trying to stop what they had from breaking.

Liam sucked softly on Zayn’s bottom lip, following it with a quick nip that had Zayn’s mouth falling open just as they both turned slightly desperate. Zayn’s fingers tightened in his hair, pulling as he licked into Liam’s mouth, and then it was Liam’s answering groan that seemed to break them both, shatter them into a thousand pieces that wouldn’t be able to be put back together without showing obvious signs of stress.

He didn’t _care_ though because this felt better than he’d ever thought it would. He kept Zayn upright with his body, running his hand down his chest and teasing along his waistband, gripping his hip when he heard him moan. _God_ he was so responsive, so gorgeous when he kissed Liam harder, taking his mouth again and again until they were both lost in it, lost in the slick slide of tongues and the subtle way Zayn had started grinding his hips down.

Liam hissed when he felt Zayn hard against his stomach, couldn’t stop touching him when he ground up against him and made Zayn’s head fall back. He couldn’t get his thoughts together, didn’t _want_ to when he had Zayn in his arms, grinding against him and panting. Liam kept a slow rhythm with his hips, a dirty grind that had Zayn digging his heels into Liam’s back to urge him on.

It was always there in every touch; a hint, a spark, something that felt like the beginning, but instead of dowsing the possibility of a flame, the water lapping around them now somehow seemed to be heating Liam from the inside out.

“ _God_ Zayn.” Liam was panting now too, his movements speeding up when he shifted them so their cocks rubbed against each other. He wanted no clothes between them, even their wet pants too much, but he couldn’t keep his hands still, couldn’t stop running them over every inch of Zayn’s skin he could find. “You’re so gorgeous, do you have any idea?”

All he got was another moan, loud in the tiled space, so he ducked forward to kiss him again, sucking lightly on his tongue. He could feel his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach, hadn’t come in his pants since he was a teenager, but this was _Zayn_ , Zayn who was nipping at his ear lobe and moaning his name, and Liam only had so much self-control.

Fuck, he needed to get Zayn on a bed, spread out so he could take his time, map his body with his tongue until he was a quivering mess. Maybe after the case, after they were done here, they could lock themselves away. For now, though, he just held Zayn tighter, kissed him deeper, ground up against him harder until Zayn was trembling.

“Liam, I – I _can’t_ , I’m gonna come, fuck, _please_.” Zayn was moving his hips along with Liam’s, gorgeous and _so much_ , and Liam just wanted to see him fall apart. “Li, want you so much, c’mon, _c’mon_.”

One more perfect grind had Zayn stiffening in Liam’s arms, crying out and clutching the back of Liam’s head as he convulsed. All it took was one last groan from Zayn, one more shift of his hips, and then Liam was coming in his pants too, gripping Zayn’s thigh as he struggled to stay upright, pleasure sparking up his spine as his thoughts faded away and all he knew was _Zayn_.

They both panted as they came down from their highs, still clutching at each other as they caught their breath, and when Liam finally pulled back to look at Zayn, he looked sated and happy, his eyes half lidded and soft breaths still fanning over Liam’s lips.

He palmed up Zayn’s side, sliding over his ribs and then chest to cup his face, his thumb carefully stroking over his cheekbone as Zayn hummed and closed his eyes. It felt like it’d made them stronger, like his fear of ruining them had been completely unwarranted. Liam ducked forward and kissed him softly as he held Zayn’s face, sighing into his mouth when Zayn ran his fingers through Liam’s hair.

And then Liam, still in a post-orgasm haze, opened his mouth and ruined everything.

“See?” Liam murmured, pressing quick kisses against Zayn’s lips. “You’re the perfect distraction.” Zayn stiffened in Liam’s arms again, but this time it was wrong, and when he felt Zayn pushing against him, he immediately let go of him and stepped back.

“Zayn? Wait, babe, what’s wrong?” Liam wasn’t sure exactly what he’d done wrong, or why Zayn looked so panicked as he pulled himself up out of the pool. “Wait, where are you going?”

Zayn was frantically looking for his clothes, pulling them on as soon as he found them, but Liam was too confused, too thrown by the drastic shift, to move. All he could do was watch as Zayn threw his clothes on, the water on his skin already starting to soak through the material of his t-shirt. He was shaking his head and muttering under his breath as he picked up his shoes, and it took a moment before Liam realised what he was saying.

“Fuck, so _stupid._ Shouldn’t have done that, what an _idiot._ ”

Liam’s heart felt like it’d fallen out of his stomach and sunk to the bottom of the pool as he watched Zayn move towards the door. “Zayn?”

Zayn finally turned, fixing him with a stare that Liam had never once seen directed at him. “We shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry Li, God,” he choked out, but then he was darting out the door and Liam was left alone in the middle of the pool.

He pulled himself out, his mind completely distracted as he got dressed, not even caring that he was still wet. It hit him when he was leaving the room; he’d told Zayn he wouldn’t be a distraction when Zayn was worried about him, and then had just told him, straight to his face, that he was perfect for it. He groaned and scrubbed his hand over his face. _Fuck_.

Zayn’s phone went straight to voicemail, so he did the next best thing and called Niall.

_“Hey Payno, didn’t expect to hear from you.”_

“What do you mean?” Liam shook his head to try and get rid of the excess water in his hair.

_“Just figured you’d still be down there with Malik. You don’t seem like the type to ditch after a hookup.”_

Liam froze, his finger still on the up button at the lift. “I thought you said you turned the cameras off.” There was a pause and Liam realised his mistake, sighing into the phone. “You were joking, weren’t you.”

_“Absolutely, but I’m glad I was right! Tell me everything, I’m bored as fuck.”_

“Look, is he there with you? Is Zayn there?”

Niall snorted and Liam could hear the sound of his keyboard in the background. _“Do you think I’d be talking about this if he was here? I assumed he was with you still – oh wait, here he is! Zayner, do you wanna – oh.”_

Liam ignored the lift when it opened, didn’t want to risk ending the phone call by getting in. “What? What, Niall?”

_“He just ignored me and went straight to our room. He looked like he’d been crying. Do you want me to go get him? Is everything alright?”_

Liam swore under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He _hated_ hurting Zayn, and he couldn’t have chosen a worse way, and time, to do it. “No, let him have his space. I just did something incredibly stupid, and I need to fix it, but he needs time to himself first.”

_“Well, if you’re sure. If you need anything, let me know, yeah?”_

He felt like he was floating as he went back to his room, but not in the euphoric way he should’ve been. Liam just couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t really focus on anything except sending Zayn a message apologising, and he’d forgotten about Harry until he got back to his room and the smell of nail polish smacked him in the face.

“Oh, sorry Will, I should’ve warned you.” Harry grinned at him from his bed, face mask on as he carefully painted his thumbnail, but his face crumpled with concern when Liam tried to smile at him, the different name just reminding him that he wasn’t where he needed to be right now. “Hey, are you alright? Why are you wet?”

Liam sat down on the edge of his bed as Harry put his nail polish carefully on the bedside table. “Not really,” he tried to laugh, but it came out cracked and broken. “I just ah, did something very stupid to hurt my p – my boyfriend, and I know it’s my fault and I’m not sure how to fix it. I sent him a message, but he hasn’t written back. I’m not sure if he will.”

“Oh.” Harry shuffled up to sit opposite Liam, blowing gently on his nails. “I’m sure he knows you didn’t mean it. Do you want to talk about it, or forget about it?”

He wanted to do both. He wanted to tell Harry everything, but it was a real problem, one he didn’t want to have to change to fit his backstory, so he just ran his hand through his hair and smiled weakly. “Maybe forget about it, for now.”

Harry nodded, resolved expression on his face. “Done! Hey, do you want some hot chocolate? Kyle tried to give me some of that sugar free crap before, but I bought my own.” He was already standing, blowing on his nails as he moved to the thermos on the desk. “It’s not super fancy, but it does the job.”

“I’d love some, actually.” Liam wrapped his hands around the mug as soon as Harry handed it to him, the warmth perfect as the cold from the water started to settle in his skin, the sweetness exactly what he’d needed. “Thanks, Haz.” He got a beaming smile at the nickname and vowed to use it more often.

“You’re very welcome. You should change out of those clothes, though, I don’t want you to get sick. I’ll turn my back and you can get changed.” Harry was already turning before he’d finished his sentence, and Liam grinned at his back, popping his mug down and stripping out of his wet clothes. “Do you want to play 20 questions to help you forget about your troubles?”

Liam laughed, tugging on his joggers and slipping a soft t-shirt over his head. “Sure, but only if I can go first. You can turn back around, thank you.”

Harry spun around quickly and threw himself on his bed, sitting cross legged facing Liam. “Sure! Hit me.” He waggled his eyebrows, checking his nails again as Liam picked up his hot chocolate.

“Did you and Louis ever stop staring at each other, or is he secretly still in here?”

The bark of laughter Harry let out relaxed Liam a bit. “I wish he was secretly still here. He’s bloody gorgeous,” Harry sighed, and Liam hid a smile behind his mug. “He stayed for about half an hour. We’re gonna see each other again, I think.”

Liam made a mental note to mention it to Louis in the morning. “That’s great. He’s really brilliant, I think you’ll get on great.”

“Alright, my turn!”

They took turns asking mundane questions about their family and where they grew up, and Liam had to keep things vague. Harry never questioned it though, and Liam found out he was from Cheshire and only had one sister, that he loved singing and had always wanted to do pageants; to help people, he’d said, and that he’d interned under a pageant coach six years ago when he’d just turned 18. The more that he got to know Harry, the sweeter he became.

“Okay, so Will,” Harry said in a staged whisper, leaning forward from where he was painting his toes now. “What’s your real name?”

Liam almost dropped his mug onto the carpet. It was fine; he’d been questioned while undercover before, but he didn’t know how _Harry_ would know. He was sure he could take him, anyway. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to tell me! I won’t ever tell anyone though.” Harry smiled at him, apparently not noticing Liam’s distress, a sign that either Liam was doing his job properly, or Harry wasn’t great at reading people. Knowing Harry already, even for the short amount of time that he had, Liam didn’t feel any arrogance in admitting it was the first one. “I thought it was so weird at first, you know? Why would people in pageants need stage names? But then I thought about it and with social media these days, you can never be too careful.”

“Oh, right,” Liam laughed, making another mental note to kick Louis in the morning for not telling him, but thinking of Louis just somehow led him back to Zayn, and his heart skipped. “My first name’s still Will, but my last name’s Payne.”

Oh, for fuck’s _sake._ Liam could’ve given him _any_ name, anything at all, and he’d given him his _real_ last name. Niall was going to lose his mind. Sulking about Zayn wasn’t a good enough reason for fucking up so badly. 

Harry scrunched his nose at him. “My real last name is a normal word too! Styles.”

“Your actual name is Harry Styles?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, studying his toenails and recapping the polish. “People love my stage name, for obvious reasons.”

Liam could help but laugh, even as his mind tried to berate him for the name slip. “Well, I think your real last name is heaps better anyway.”

Harry smiled, his dimples popping, and Liam was immensely grateful he’d ended up here with him. “So, what’s your favourite food?”

*****

By the time Liam’s alarm went off, Harry was already gone and there was still no message back from Zayn. There’d been no nightmares, something he’d warned Harry about but apparently hadn’t needed to. Now that he was awake though, it was even more clear that while it had been easy to forget what he’d actually done when Harry had been there, now, at 5:30 in the morning alone in his room, he had no choice but to think about it.

 _A good distraction_. God, what a fucking _idiot._ Zayn was everything, so much more than a _distraction_ , and Liam had probably ruined any chance they’d had. He always tried not to profile Zayn, not to let his training bleed into their friendship, but sometimes it just happened, an automatic response to any situation that he needed to fix.

Zayn had been amazing, had felt like everything Liam had ever wanted, and it hadn’t felt weird or awkward like it easily could’ve, kissing his best friend. It’d felt like that’s where they’d been heading this entire time. They needed to talk about it though, face to face, because he had no idea how long Zayn had wanted him the same way he’d wanted Zayn.

It was possible it was just sex for Zayn, something to scratch an itch, but he _knew_ Zayn, and while he didn’t know exactly how they’d gotten here, he knew that wasn’t how Zayn was; maybe he wasn’t as one-sided in his feelings as he thought and it’d been something they’d both been coincidentally developing at the same time.

He groaned, just wanting to curl back up under his duvet and go back to sleep, but he had a _job_ to do, and for some reason today, that included the gym at fucking 6am. He found Harry there when he arrived still bleary eyed and filled with heartache. Not even Harry’s positivity was helping, just erring on the side of too much this early in the morning. He spotted for Harry for a while, mind drifting back to how Zayn had sounded when he came, but that train of thought was an absolute recipe for disaster with Harry so close to him.

They ducked back to their room after their workout so they could quickly shower and change, and had breakfast with Louis, Liam coughing into his cereal every time Louis found an excuse to touch Harry. Even for two affectionate people, they were disturbingly touchy over breakfast, and by the time they all headed to the staging area for practice, there was _still_ no message from Zayn.

He really didn’t have time to dwell on it though, couldn’t prove Anthony right by _letting_ Zayn distract him from his work, so he shook himself, slapped his face a couple of times as they all stood on the stage and waited for the judges. It was essential for him to seem alert and rested, so when the judges walked into the room, dressed to impress, Liam set a quiet smile on his face. All of them nodded at him, which seemed like a good sign, so he relaxed slightly and straightened his posture, keeping his hands folded in front of him and chin up. He glanced at Louis quickly, who sent him a thumbs up just as the judges started talking.

“Good morning everyone, good morning!” Sophie was bright and cheery, a cup of coffee in her hand as she waved around at them all. “Are you all excited?” There was a cheer through the group that Liam was sure was led by Harry. “Perfect, perfect. We all just wanted to say hello and good luck!”

Lance stepped forward, the very picture of calm power. “We expect a lot from all of you, but we know you can meet our expectations and more. Make sure you listen to the stage directions, and we’ll see you later today.”

Liam grinned at them all as they left, shooting a wink to Miriam as she waved him off with a smile, and listened to the man in front of him as he started pointing around the large stage and shouting directions at the contestants. It wasn’t difficult, just as Louis had said, but he still needed to pay attention, remember exactly where to stand in the background until it was his turn, remember that he was two people up from Canaan and three down from Harry. He could hear the man next to him practicing his speech under his breath over and over, his hand moving in his pocket; prayer beads. Liam gave him a soft smile when he finished, pleased when he got one in return, and then everyone was dispersing, and Louis was right in front of him.

“Smashed it, Will.” Louis clapped him on the shoulder, the use of his fake name jarring.

“I didn’t really do anything,” Liam argued, waving goodbye to Harry as Louis led him backstage, but Harry’s eyes lit up when he saw Louis and he made a beeline towards them.

“You did, and you know it. Miriam looks about ready to adopt you, honestly.” Louis rolled his eyes as he stopped in front of a door labelled _Hair and Makeup._ “She’s my favourite, though. Sweet old lady, still checks up on me. She used to judge the women’s pageants, but she switched in the last few years.” Louis bustled Liam through the door, only noticing Harry when they made it through. “Oh, hello Harold. You looked great up there.”

Harry’s grin was back, wide and genuine. “Hi Lou. _You_ look great today.”

“You’ve already seen me today,” Louis shot back, but he was blushing, the red high on his cheeks, and Liam wandered off to leave them to their awkward flirting.

The room was a _hive_ of activity, people rushing back and forth with carts of equipment, makeup brushes and hair dryers littering the stations set up for contestants to sit at. It somehow already smelled like hairspray, even though they were among the first people there, and it was one of the first times Liam had felt truly overwhelmed.

He checked his phone. Still no message from Zayn. 

“Okay, let’s fix this mop.” Louis gripped his elbow and led him to a chair, pushing him into it none too gently. “There’s about five different hairdressers and another five makeup artists. You’ll have the same ones the entire time, and they’ll always be next to each other like this.” Liam hadn’t noticed the makeup setup next to him at the next station over. “Every morning of an event, we’ll get your hair done first, and then your makeup. You’ve already washed your hair, which is perfect, so Michael here will just need to style it for you. Easy peasy, yeah?”

Liam took a deep breath and looked in the mirror, saw a young man with black hair and a kind smile behind him with a comb, and pushed it out in one long exhale. “Easy peasy.”

“Great! I’m going to hang around because I haven’t seen Michael for what feels like years.”

Michael looked at Louis fondly and then came around next to Liam to shake his hand. “Hey man, I’m Michael. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, I’m Will.” Liam shook his hand firmly, smiling at him when he moved back behind him. “How do you two know each other?”

“I do hair for both lots of pageants,” Michael explained, running his fingers through Liam’s hair and pulling it back from his face. “I used to work with him and his sisters a lot.”

Louis seemed to still have at least a few people in the industry who loved him and supported him, and Liam was glad; Louis was brilliant at what he did, hard working and caring, and it was almost vindicating to see that Simon hadn’t gotten through to everyone.

“Does that mean you knew him when he was a little shit of a kid?” Liam grinned at Louis in the mirror, laughing when he glared back at him, but then Harry was settling into the makeup chair next to him and Louis’ attention was pulled away.

Michael just snorted, pumping a little white mountain of product into his hand and combing it through Liam’s hair. “Please. He’s still a little shit.”

It was relaxing to let Michael do his hair, listening to him and Louis banter whenever Louis wasn’t flirting with Harry. He could hear Harry comparing nail polish with the makeup artist, a tall blonde man named Alex that Louis seemed familiar with, but he could almost feel his phone burning in his pocket, a constant reminder that Zayn _still_ hadn’t messaged him back.

He’d ruined everything, ruined eight years of friendship, partnership, and love for a 10-minute fumble in a pool. There were tears welling up in his eyes, so he closed them and tried to relax into Michael’s gentle fingers twisting his hair into position. This was the last thing he needed before the first event, his stomach a tangle of nerves and fear, frustration and sadness. Of all the times for them to do this, they’d done it at the worst possible; the middle of an assignment while Liam was undercover and Zayn had direct orders not to see him.

Liam hardly noticed when Michael finished his hair, but he did manage to thank him as he swapped places with Harry, sitting in front of Alex and just closing his eyes while he had his makeup done. Alex was chatty, constant talk that Liam normally would’ve engaged in, but as it was, he just _hmmed_ and _ahhed_ in all the right places, managing to placate him enough that when he was finished, he shot Liam a wide grin and a wink.

“You look fucking great Will, thanks lads.” Louis was studying him, and Liam could see the way he wanted to ask, that Liam’s emotions were probably sitting right at the surface, but he breathed a sigh of relief when Louis seemed to realise it wasn’t the time. “Time to get dressed, let’s go! See you later Harry. Boys. Thanks for making him look so good.” 

Michael waved him off though, one hand still in Harry’s curls. “Please, he does that himself.” 

“Yeah Louis, I do that myself.” Liam raised his eyebrows at him, trying to make a joke out of it, but it fell slightly flat when Louis frowned. “Thanks guys, I appreciate it.” 

“No problem,” Alex piped up, glancing at Liam and smiling softly. “We’ll see you around.”

They’d only just managed to get into Liam’s dressing room when Louis rounded on him, hands on his hips. “Liam, what the fuck is going on? I need you to be on your game, and you're so far past it that I don’t know how to bring you back!” 

“It’s just - I fucked something up with Zayn and I don’t know how to fix it.” Liam moved into the room, grabbing a bottle of water and downing it all in one go. “I’m trying so hard not to let it affect me, but we’ve never had anything like this before, and I don’t know if we can bounce back from it.” He sat heavily onto the couch in the corner, dropping his head into his hands and wondering how the _fuck_ everything had changed in such a short amount of time. 

He heard Louis’ heavy sigh from across the room, the lightness of his steps on the carpet, and then the couch dipped next to him and there was a hand rubbing at his back. 

“Liam. I don’t know how to fix it, or exactly what to say. All I know is that I’m sure it’ll be okay, because you and Zayn love each other, yeah?” Louis’ hands kept rubbing small circles. “But I need you to look at me now.” Liam turned his head, and Louis looked the most serious he’d seen him. “You absolutely cannot fuck this pageant up. I understand that you’re going through something, and I’m sorry that it’s happened, truly. I know how much he means to you, but you need to remember why you’re _here_ , Liam. You’re so fuckin’ good at what you do, and right now, I need you to channel all of that and use it to win this pageant, because if you don’t, there is every possibility that a serial killer will keep winning instead. I know it might sound harsh, but if you don’t snap out of this, there are literally people’s lives at risk.” 

It wasn’t that he’d forgotten, not at all. It was impossible to forget when your job made up a large part of who you were, but Louis was absolutely right. Zayn would be there whether he wallowed or not, and he’d always have a chance to fix it, but catching the unsub was his number one priority, and he’d needed the not so gentle reminder to snap him out of it. 

He sat up straighter, shoulders back, and looked at himself in the mirror across from him. His hair was soft and wavy, the makeup subtle and well done, and he was ready to do this. 

“You’re right. God you’re right, I’m sorry.” Liam stood up and unbuttoned his shirt, ready for Louis to hand him the suit. “I can do this.” 

“You can do this,” Louis leapt up and started grabbing hangers from a rack, “because right now, you’re Will Prince.” 

“Because I’m Will Prince,” Liam repeated.

Louis passed him the white shirt, bouncing on his toes. “And you’re going to go out there and charm the judges.” 

“And I’m going to go out there and charm the judges.” The buttons were small, but Liam had them done in no time, the collar of the shirt fitting snugly against his neck. 

“And then you’re going to win.” 

“And then I’m going to win,” Liam repeated, taking off his joggers and pulling on the pink suit pants, tucking in the undershirt. The pink colour was nicer in person than the photo, the fabric slightly coarse, and Liam wondered if he could convince Louis to let him take it home.

“Because otherwise Louis will look like a failure of a coach,” Louis added, handing Liam the jacket with a solemn expression. 

Liam took it carefully, slipping it on as Louis fixed it at the back. “Because otherwise a serial killer might escape and no one will even notice Louis’ coaching skills.” 

A soft slap to his back and a tug at his collar, and Louis’ head popped around from behind Liam’s back. “Okay, rude. See if I help _you_ ever again. I’m just gonna grab your shoes and accessories, hang on.” 

Even without the shoes and watch, Liam had to admit he looked good. The suit fit him like a glove, the colour a perfect complement to his skin tone and hair colour, and the high collar looked elegant. He twisted in the mirror, sure that Louis wouldn’t notice if he just...wore it forever. 

“Sit down, you can’t change your socks if you’re staring at yourself in the mirror.” 

He looked even better after he was fully dressed, and he took a moment to admire himself in the mirror. “I actually look pretty good.” 

Louis looked offended from over near the wardrobe where he was hanging up the empty suit bag. “You look _amazing_ , thank you very much. So ungrateful today.” 

Liam laughed, moving his hair back a touch before Louis glared at him. “I have to use the bathroom, how much time do we have?” 

“About 15 minutes.” Louis sighed though, conflicted even as he pointed at the door to the hallway. “It’s down the hall and to the right, but be quick Payne, or I swear to God.” 

With a grateful grin, Liam dashed out the door, trying to be quick as he ducked into the bathroom. By the time he moved back into the hallway, there were people milling about everywhere, and just as he went to open the door to his dressing room, a flash of red caught his eye. 

It was Annie, moving quickly along the back wall at the end of the hallway, something hidden in her hands as her eyes darted around. Liam hesitated, but he already knew what he needed to do. He tried to be casual about it, but he couldn’t shake the awful feeling spreading through him, so he weaved through the other contestants quickly, trying to get to the end of the hall before she vanished. 

He got there just in time to see her duck under a piece of scaffold, still clutching her hands to her chest, so he followed after her, wishing he had his phone in his pocket to send Zayn a text as he tried to be quiet. Liam followed her through a row of costumes and past a jumble of props, up a set of stairs and through another lot of doors until she stopped inside a room, and Liam could hear her whispering. His fingers itched for his gun, just in case, but even if she had a weapon, he was sure he could disarm her. 

“ - and Simon said to make sure that it plays in this exact order, okay?” 

Order? Liam slowly stuck his head into the room, praying that no one was looking, and when he realised his mistake, he almost hit his head against the wall. 

It’d been a USB that Annie was guarding so strongly, and she’d just given it to the sound engineers. Liam wanted to feel like a fool, but he would’ve been kicking himself if he hadn’t tried. His main problem now was that he was almost certainly running late, and Louis was going to slap him into next week. He snuck away from the door until he’d rounded a corner and then sprinted down an empty hallway, only coming to a stop when someone grabbed him by the arm. He instantly went into fight mode, grabbing the man’s wrist and almost twisting when he looked down and recognised the tattoos. His head shot up, his mouth dropping open. 

“Zayn?” Liam grabbed his face in his hands, holding him tightly as though he’d imagined him there. “What the _fuck_ are you doing here, are you serious? You could be _killed_ , God, why didn’t you just answer my text? Fuck I’m so sorry, I didn’t - .”

He was cut off when Zayn lunged forward to kiss him, a quick press of lips that left Liam chasing after him. They stared at each other for a beat, Liam’s hand on Zayn’s shoulder, Zayn’s on Liam’s hip.

“I just had to say good luck,” Zayn whispered, and before Liam could kiss him again, hug him tight against his body, Zayn had moved away and disappeared into a room. 

There was absolutely no time to unpack _that,_ so Liam just shook his head, sure he’d dreamt it, and made his way backstage, sliding in front of Louis where he was looking around frantically. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Louis hissed at him when he came to a stop, fixing his lapel and slapping him on the chest. “I’ve been shitting myself back here waiting for you. Actually you don’t have time to explain, get out there.” Louis shoved him into the line of men, and he had just enough time to plaster a smile on his face before they strolled out onto the stage, music kicking in just in time. 

The lights were blinding, the crowd excessively loud as Liam walked across the stage. It was a mission in itself to make sure he wasn’t squinting, that his smile wasn’t too wide and that his hands weren’t at a ridiculous angle. He couldn’t see anything in the crowd, just had to trust that everyone was safe and that he was doing enough to get points. 

He waited patiently as everyone introduced themselves, even as his mouth hurt from smiling, until it was his turn. Liam tried to remember everything Louis had said; _don’t touch the microphone, don’t slouch, make sure you look at all four judges, keep that smile on your face, don’t forget your speech._

“Hi everyone.” Liam’s voice was even and fake, but only for those in the know, and his hands were steady. “I’m William Prince, 25, from London, and I can’t wait to show you all why I deserve to be Mr UK this year. I love comic books, dogs, and volunteering for children’s charities, and I’m currently training to be a firefighter.” He winked at where he thought the first row was, heard a slight squeal and then moved back to the line, slightly deaf from the applause but smiling softly now. _A walking contradiction,_ Louis had said. 

He let himself tune out slightly, his part over for the day. The music playing sounded familiar, but Liam couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t until the third song faded in that it hit him, and he tensed.

They were the same songs in the playlists found at the drop sites for the bodies.

Fuck. He tried to be natural about it but his pulse was racing as he looked offstage, hoping for Zayn but seeing Louis instead. There was no way for him to mouth anything to him, no way to ask for Zayn, and when Louis just gestured for him to smile bigger, Liam knew it’d have to wait. 

Annie had given the sound team the music. It was a big risk though, putting something so obvious at the first event, but Annie didn’t know Liam had followed her, probably still assumed no one would find out. Maybe she didn’t know they were already onto her.

It was a blur by the time Liam got back to his dressing room, barging in with Louis hot on his heels.

“Amazing job mate, really well done.”

Liam hardly even heard him. “I need Zayn.” He shrugged off his jacket and threw it onto the back of a chair, pulling at the buttons of his shirt. “I need _Zayn_ , Louis, it’s work related.” 

“Lucky I’m already here, then.” 

He spun around, hand on his heart as Zayn looked at him, and while usually this was where Liam would pull him in, would hug his waist and kiss his head, he didn’t have time today. 

“I saw Annie giving the music to the sound engineers, and I realised on stage that the songs were familiar. They’re the songs from the dump sites. It’s the same playlist, Zayn.” 

*****

Liam hadn’t been in the suite yet. It was beautiful, modern with large windows that let in the natural light.

Or they would’ve if the curtains didn’t have to be constantly shut, just in case. 

He was sitting on the couch next to Zayn, watching Anthony pace back and forth as they waited for Annie to show up for an interview. _Just some questions_ , they’d told her with a smile, but her hesitation had proved she knew their intent. 

Zayn was almost pressed up against the other end of the couch, chewing on his thumb nail, and Liam just wanted to touch him, run his fingers through his hair to settle him because he didn’t understand this hot and cold routine. Zayn had never been like this with him, always open so they could talk through any problems, but Liam couldn’t comprehend why he kept kissing him and then running. He just wanted to _talk_ to him about it, but it wasn’t the right time, not with a possible break in the case and their team scattered around the room. 

He’d never been avoided like this before though, and it was making him feel cold, rejected and slightly desperate, but Zayn hated anyone’s touch when he wasn’t the one that initiated the affection. That’d never been the case with Liam though, and he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands now, trying to stop the twitch in his fingers that ached for Zayn’s silky hair, his soft skin. He just wanted to see him _smile_ , but he didn’t know how to do it. 

Louis was at the dining table talking to Neal and Kirby, answering questions and giving official statements about what he knew of Annie. Liam realised _just_ too late what the problem might be when there was a knock on the door, and Simon strolled in, Annie half hidden behind his back. 

Liam stood, his hands clasped in front of him as he heard Zayn get to his feet behind him. He set his face as hard as possible, shoulders pushed back as he felt Zayn take the same position next to him, because Simon had absolutely not been invited. 

“Mr. Cowell.” Zayn’s voice was so cold that Liam almost felt it like a tangible chill in the room. “I don’t believe we asked for you to come.” 

Simon just smiled though, an empty thing that just made his face look slightly more alive. “Oh, I know. I insisted on accompanying her. She’s chosen to do this without a lawyer, as she doesn’t need one, so I’ve decided to make sure she’s okay.”

“She can speak for herself, sir. You’ll be required to wait out here.” Liam cocked an eyebrow, pleased when Zayn smirked next to him. “Ms. Thompson, please come through to the next room. Mr. Cowell, you can wait on the couch.” 

He thought to check on Louis too late, just as Simon turned and saw him, and the entire room stopped. 

“Louis.” Simon turned almost gleeful, bouncing on his toes, and Liam felt ill. “I haven’t seen you for, oh what, about a year?”

Louis wasn’t looking at him, seemed to be staring somewhere past his head. “Something like that. Shame it wasn’t longer.”

But Simon just chuckled, and Liam noticed Zayn stiffen next to him. “Well, I imagine you’ve been busy. Coming out can be a tiring experience, yes?”

It was instant, the rage that poured through Liam’s body, crawling towards every nerve ending he had. He stepped forward, but Zayn’s hand grabbed his and tugged him back. 

“He can look after himself, Li. Let him,” Zayn murmured, but Liam could see how ready he was if they needed to step in. Anthony was slowly moving closer too, ready if Louis needed them.

Louis chuckled though and stood, feet apart and a cold smile on his face, strangely formal in a way that Liam hadn’t seen since they’d first met. “I’m not quite sure you’d know about that. At least I get to be who I am now, on my terms. How’s your wife doing? We must catch up.” 

It would’ve been a low blow if Simon didn’t deserve it, but it gave them the benefit of seeing Simon’s face pale, and to slip Annie out of the room properly without Simon noticing. Anthony and the team were more than capable of dealing with Simon on their own, if Louis didn’t destroy him first. Liam hoped Niall would film it. 

“Thank you for coming in, Ms. Thompson.” Liam smiled at her as he shut the door behind the three of them, gesturing to a small table in the corner of the room. “I’m going to record this conversation, okay? We just have a few questions.” 

She thanked Zayn when he pulled back a chair for her, crossing his legs and smiling back at Liam when he sat across from her, recorder in the centre. “Not a problem. Am I in trouble, agents?” 

Zayn shook his head, hands on the table in front of him. Both good cop today, then. Easy. 

“No, not in trouble. It’s just some routine questions.” Zayn’s grin looked genuine, bright and easy, and while Annie settled back into her seat, Liam could see the calculating stare behind it. “How long have you worked for Simon, Ms. Thompson?”

“Please call me Annie.” At Liam’s nod, she continued. “About three years. It’s been such a pleasure. He’s brilliant.” She looked almost wistful, staring off to the side in a stroke of luck that meant she missed Liam’s grimace. 

They asked about her previous jobs, her family and what she was responsible for at work. Zayn managed to slip in a casual question about the playlist, but she answered it easily, laughing that Simon had just given it to her and ‘ _it’s an odd mix, isn’t it?’_

She was exactly how any innocent person always was; slightly nervous, a jiggling leg and fidgeting fingers, but she answered the questions easily, never once looking away to hide a lie or covering her face. 

They may have had a theory, but there was absolutely no proof, and the theory was built on what easily could’ve been coincidences; the nail polish, the music, the fact Annie was always wearing stilettos. Liam had never believed that looking into Annie was the right direction, and when she confirmed she’d been at an Arsenal game for two of the murders, a fact that lined up perfectly with Louis’ knowledge and that Niall could easily verify, there was definitely no point in questioning her further. 

“Thank you Annie, we’ll be back in contact if we have any more questions.” Liam nodded at her and switched off the recording, leading her back into the main room with Zayn trailing behind him.

Neal and Kirby were gone and the room was silent, Louis perched on the dining table and Simon pointedly ignoring him on the couch. Anthony was standing against the wall, facing both of them, face set in stone and arms crossed. The tension was palpable, and it didn’t get any better when Simon stood without a word and left, Annie trailing behind him.

“Well bye then,” Zayn mumbled, a tiny smile on his face when it pulled a laugh out of Liam. 

Louis waited a beat and jumped down, dusting off his jeans. “I’m gonna head out too, I’m having coffee with Harry. Don’t,” he warned Liam, and Liam snapped his mouth shut, “even start. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.” He waved as he left, moving to Zayn first and giving him a quick hug that made Liam’s stomach lurch. 

As soon as he was gone, Anthony sighed and uncrossed his arms. “How’d you do?”

“It’s not her.” Liam moved to sit on the couch, throwing his arm over the back. “She was way too calm. She was honest the whole time, I think it’s honestly just a coincidence.” 

“I think it’s Simon.” 

Liam swung around to look at Zayn, surprise and confusion written all over his face because they hadn’t even _discussed_ it. They always talked about everything, details and theories and profiles, but Zayn was standing in the doorway staring at Anthony, jaw clenched and arms folded.

Defensive, on guard. Angry too, but Liam wasn’t sure why. He seemed conflicted as well, moving on his feet and shifting his weight. 

“Stop profiling me, Liam,” Zayn snapped, and Liam flinched back like it’d been a physical blow. 

Zayn was normally the easiest person for Liam to read, but right now it was like a different person, like Zayn had changed overnight, and even though Liam knew why, it still stung, like a thousand little paper cuts dotted like constellations in his skin. 

Anthony was watching them both warily. “Why?” 

“He’s just not a good guy!” Zayn threw his arms up, frustration boiling over. “He was the one who gave Annie the playlist and we know he’s manipulative. He has the money and the resources to pull this off.” 

Liam furrowed his brows, the logic incredibly flawed. “But he has alibis for all of the murders, and this kind of thing could _damage_ his pageant. He’s making great money, why would he do that to himself?”

“We hardly ever really know why people murder each other Liam, why would this be different?” Zayn’s tone was harsh and still cool, like he was talking to Simon still instead of his best friend. “It just as easily could draw attention to the pageant, get it on the news.” 

“There’s no _proof_ though, Zayn! You’re going off your perception of him, nothing else.” 

“Look at what he did to Louis! He could easily - .” 

Liam huffed out a laugh and stood, saw Anthony subtly inch closer to the door before he slipped out with a pointed look. He was giving them space, and Liam was instantly grateful. “This has nothing to do with Louis! What happened to Louis is fucking awful, but you’re letting your new friendship influence you! We have absolutely no evidence to suggest it’s Simon. Not every single arsehole we come across is the right fit, Zayn!” 

Zayn scoffed and walked up to him, almost chest to chest, and it’d been _years_ since they’d had an argument like this. “If you weren’t so jealous, this wouldn’t even be an argument.” 

He wasn’t _jealous_. Maybe he felt a bit odd at Louis’ easy friendship with Zayn, but he wasn’t _jealous._ The words hit a nerve though, and Liam was snapping back before he could stop it. 

“Maybe if you’d just _talk_ to me about whatever’s bothering you, we could have a normal fucking conversation!” 

“I feel like I’m losing you!”

Liam blinked, trying to process the words, but they still didn’t make sense. “What do you mean?”

Zayn looked down, fingers twitching, a clear sign he was uncomfortable. “I don’t know, okay? I see you with Harry and it just, I don’t know! I can’t see you, I can’t talk to you, I don’t know what to do, Liam.”

“Zayn, Harry is a _friend_ , but like you and Louis!” Liam reached for him but hesitated, letting his hand fall through the air between them. “It’s only been a few days, how could you possibly think you could ever _lose_ me? We’ve still been seeing each other and talking, why are you so afraid?”

“Because I don’t know how to handle any of this, and it’s all come at the worst possible time and I’m so confused, Liam.” Zayn’s eyes were pleading with Liam to understand but everything was getting jumbled in his head. “It’s always been you and me, and now there’s Harry and Louis and I don’t _know.”_

Even though he was angry at him, Liam still wanted to be able to touch Zayn, hold him until they were okay again, but he knew if he tried, Zayn would probably rip his head off. They were just staring at each other, chests heaving, and Liam should’ve seen it coming, he _really_ should’ve, but he almost toppled over when Zayn jumped at him, and by the time they hit the couch, his hand had already found its way under Zayn’s shirt. 

_God_ , Liam suddenly felt too hot, like every part of him was instantly attuned to Zayn, who was straddling his lap and already grinding down, his movements frantic and rushed. Zayn was kissing him like they were still arguing, teeth tugging at his lip and his tongue dominating Liam’s mouth, and all he could do was dig his fingers into Zayn’s hips and suck on his tongue. 

Liam tried to slow it, tried to run his hand up to stroke Zayn’s face, but Zayn just made an annoyed noise, grabbing his wrist and setting Liam’s hand on his arse. 

“ _Zayn_ , fuck, we can’t do this, we have to _talk -_ oh fuck,” Liam gasped, head tipping forward to rest on Zayn’s collarbone. He was swivelling his hips perfectly and Liam was already almost completely hard, and he couldn’t resist pulling Zayn’s shirt collar down to nip at the skin there. “ _God_ you feel good, we have to talk Zayn, _please.”_ His mind was battling with his body, telling him to stop and push Zayn away so they could talk, but his hand was palming Zayn’s arse as he ground down against his cock, and the tiny noises leaving Zayn’s mouth were making his hips jerk up. 

“Not now, I _can’t_ right now,” Zayn moaned, pushing back against Liam’s hands where they had both settled on his arse. “I don’t know how to, _oh,_ how to talk about it, but I _know_ I need you like this, _please Leeyum_.” 

Liam kissed him again, trying to soften it into a gentle slide of tongues, but Zayn got impatient again, whining and shifting on Liam’s lap until he pulled away with a groan.

“Okay, yeah, alright but we can’t do it here, Zayn.”

Zayn’s lips had just moved to his neck though, sucking marks into his skin that Louis was surely going to kill him for. “Your room.” He tugged at Liam’s hair, and Liam tugged at his hair in response. “ _God_ Liam, your room, Harry’s out with Louis.” 

They would’ve looked a sight if anyone had seen them, both hard and flushed as they moved to Liam’s room, but the second they were inside, Zayn was pulling at the buttons on Liam’s shirt, and everything devolved into a wet mess of skin on skin, fingers leaving bruises and tongues trailing over everywhere they could reach. 

Zayn was _so_ stunning like this, spread out on the hotel bed, naked and crying out as Liam took him in his mouth. It was still somehow angry, the way they moved together, Liam holding Zayn’s hips down and still, Zayn almost pulling out Liam’s hair, but watching Zayn fall apart again made everything feel like they’d be okay, like they needed this to fix everything. 

He knew it was a lie though, the thought niggling in the back of his head even as Zayn flipped them to run his tongue along the length of Liam’s cock, sucking at the head where it was leaking. He fell completely into it though, found it impossible to think of anything else when he had Zayn like this, a second chance he never thought he’d get, and when he came with a grunt, clutching Zayn’s hand in his with their fingers tangled, it was easier to believe the lie. 

Zayn’s head was on his chest, his arm around Liam’s waist, and Liam couldn’t stop touching him even now, running his fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead. Zayn seemed to have completely calmed, giggling into Liam’s chest when something tickled and humming at the soft touches, and it felt like the fight was months ago. 

“Tomorrow,” Liam mumbled against Zayn’s forehead, exhaustion pulling him down as he tightened his hold on Zayn. “Please, tomorrow we have to talk.” 

There was a brief pause, a lull where Zayn pressed even closer, and Liam only just heard his whispered reply. “Okay.” 

*****

He should’ve seen it coming. 

Everything always fell apart in some way or another. 

Liam awoke to an empty bed, the sheets not even warm anymore on Zayn’s side. It was all too much, and when the first tear fell in the semi-dark room, it only took a moment before Harry was there, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and rocking him. 

He didn’t ask Liam what was wrong, probably didn’t need to if he’d seen Zayn there at all, so Liam just let himself be comforted, and tried not to think about how much they’d ruined everything. 


	6. V

Even though he’d quit smoking years ago, gone from almost a pack a day to nothing, Zayn still bought himself a packet when he was stressed. It wasn’t if he’d just had a bad day, or a lead had been wrong. He only bought himself a pack when awful things happened, when someone died on a case because he messed up, or when he’d worked his first case that had involved torture and he’d had to see the body.

Or, evidently, when he’d had sex with his best friend _twice_ and didn’t know how to tell him he’d fallen in love with him.

He sucked in a drag, holding it in his mouth before he breathed it in, looking out at the city over his glasses. The balcony had been a blessing, and Anthony had begrudgingly let him set up camp there this morning. It probably had more to do with how Zayn had looked when he’d stumbled into the suite, tear stained cheeks and clutching a packet of cigarettes, than Anthony just feeling generous that morning. Whether he liked being profiled or not, he knew it was inevitable, and Anthony was the best, would’ve known that Zayn desperately needed it. The team had left him alone so far, and Zayn had taken the riddles out with him to see if he could find anything else in them.

They were all just a jumble of letters at the moment though as he breathed the smoke back out into the air. Even after all the years he’d hardly smoked, his body seemed to still recognise how it used to crave it, and each puff he’d had seemed to have settled the blood in his veins until he felt like he could handle the day. He’d been chain-smoking all morning, sucking down one stick and instantly lighting the next. He felt like he was almost made of ash and smoke now, burnt out and empty, dangerous to anything he touched, just a mess that someone would eventually need to clean up.

He was pulled out of his melancholy by the sliding door opening, the swish of the curtain fabric falling back into place. He didn’t turn around, just put out the cigarette he had and opened the packet to get another.

“Can I bum one?”

He should’ve known it’d be Louis. The only other option was Liam, and there was no way he’d be here now after what Zayn had done. He silently slid two out, sticking one in his mouth and holding the second out to Louis as he heard him sit, cupping his hand around the end to light it and then handing the lighter to him, too.

The click of the flame coming to life was the only sound above the noise of traffic far below them, the honking of horns and occasional squealing of tires, and then a plume of smoke joined the one Zayn had just pushed out. He watched it as he smoked, neither him nor Louis saying anything until he’d smoked down to the filter again. Like clockwork, he stubbed it out and lit another, offering the packet to Louis and finally looking at him.

Louis was staring out over the city too, sunglasses on and wearing a tracksuit that only he could make look good. “You know, I quit a while ago.” He grabbed another one anyway, lighting it and sucking in a drag. “I only really do it now when I’m upset or shitfaced.” He turned his head to look at Zayn, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head. “Or sometimes if a friend is the one who’s upset and needs to talk.” He sighed heavily, tapping the ash onto the ground instead of the ashtray on the table. “What did you do, mate?”

Zayn wanted to be annoyed that Louis had assumed it was something he’d done, but he couldn’t, not when it _was_ him that’d snuck out of Liam’s room in a panic. He closed his eyes, shaking his head as he took another drag, his voice cracked from disuse. “I fucked up.”

“I know. Harry messaged me this morning saying that he’d just been about to go to the gym when he heard Liam crying.”

Liam was great at displaying his emotions, had never been afraid to show them the whole time Zayn had known him, but the amount of times he’d seen him cry could be counted on two hands. It hit Zayn like a fist to the stomach, how much he’d clearly hurt him if he’d been crying, how he must’ve felt woken up alone when Zayn had _told_ him that they’d talk.

Tears were welling in his own eyes now, and he squeezed them closed to stop them from falling down his cheeks. “Did he – did Harry say if he was alright in the end?”

He heard Louis suck in another drag, a long one. “Haz comforted him, but Liam wouldn’t tell him what happened. Harry saw you though when he got home after our date. You’re lucky he’s not your unsub.”

“I know,” Zayn whispered. “Anthony has no idea where I was. Think he just thought I’d gotten up earlier than him.”

“Is it not possible that he knows?”

Zayn shook his head, pulling his legs up onto the chair and wrapping his arms around his knees. “He would’ve said something. It was a direct order.”

Louis sighed, tapping his ash away and squinting into the sun. “Zayn. What the fuck’s going on?”

He wasn’t entirely sure how to explain it, so he just let the words fall out of his mouth; how they’d almost kissed, what had happened at the pool, their fight and then everything after. Louis was just watching him, his face calm but Zayn could almost hear the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out exactly what’d gone wrong.

“You’re being an idiot. I don’t understand why you left, mate. If you don’t know exactly what you feel for him, that’s fine, but you can’t take it out on him.” It felt like Louis was scolding him, but it was gentle in its delivery. “It’s not his fault that you don’t know how to handle the new way you feel about him.”

Zayn rested his head on his knees, hugging his legs tighter. “I know that. I just feel like I have no idea what I’m doing. I _know_ it’s the same Liam, and every time I see him it’s almost impossible not to touch him, and whenever he kisses me, it’s,” he trailed off, remembering how safe he’d felt, how _wanted_ Liam had made him feel underneath him, “God, it’s better than anything I could’ve thought. It’s like because he knows me so well, he just knows how to touch me, you know?”

“Focus, Malik.”

“Right, sorry. When we’re together like that, it’s just easy to be just Zayn and Liam, yeah? Just the two of us in our own bubble, and I can feel exactly how I need to and how I want to.” Zayn startled when Louis offered him another cigarette, pinching it from between his fingers and bringing it to his mouth. “When we’re surrounded by the team though, or when Liam’s being ‘Will’, it reminds me of exactly what’s at stake, how I’m breaking the rules and Liam needs to concentrate, how I’m a distraction, and then we’re Malik and Payne, and my brain just hits the emergency brake.”

Louis hummed, inclining his head towards Zayn in what seemed like understanding. “I only kind of understand what you’re saying.”

Zayn sighed, lighting his cigarette. “Normally, our work life and personal life balance is a bit weird, but it works for us. It kind of blends into one, but not in a bad way. We’re partly best friends because we work so well together, so it’s easy to switch between the two and still maintain the exact same relationship in and out of work.” He took a long drag, watching as the paper burnt away and turned to ash. “Being with Liam though, in a proper _relationship_ , it’d change all of that. The distinction between like, _Zayn and Liam_ and then _Malik and Payne_ would have to be more defined, and the way it’s affecting us during this assignment might happen all the time, and then we’re just putting ourselves in danger because we can’t focus properly. Just constant distractions,” he mumbled, flicking the cigarette too aggressively, the entire cherry falling on the balcony floor as he looked at it with a frown.

“Alright, I’m just going to be honest.” Louis relit the end of Zayn’s cigarette for him. “You’re being ridiculous. Realistically, the two of you are already a couple.” When Zayn went to argue, Louis held up his hand. “Ah ah, no. You are. The only thing that’s fucking you up now on this assignment is that you’ve only just realised your feelings, and you’re being absolute twats about it. It wouldn’t be like this all the time, Zayn.” Louis crossed his legs on the chair, taking a quick drag. “Don’t get me wrong, the timing is fucked. It’s a high-pressure case, and Liam’s under a lot of stress, but that’s the point. _This_ case is fucked, not your friendship or your relationship or the way you feel about each other.”

“He said I was a good distraction,” Zayn murmured, trying to digest all the information Louis had just thrown at him. “In the pool, right after we came, he said I was a good distraction. I feel like I’m losing him.”

“Okay, that’s almost too much information. Remind me to never swim in a hotel pool.” Louis grinned when Zayn huffed out a laugh. “Not all men are perfectly articulate when they’ve just had an orgasm. Anyone who knows the two of you can see how crazy he is about you.”

Something that felt suspiciously like hope started to unfurl in Zayn’s chest. “Yeah?”

Louis looked at him softly, a tiny smile on his face. “Yeah, lad. I doubt very much that Liam’s just using you as a distraction so he can get off and,” Louis’ gaze turned pointed, “the only way you’re going to lose him is if you keep pushing him away.”

Zayn just stared back out over the skyline, glad when Louis kept quiet to give him time to think. So much had happened over the past week that everything felt overwhelming, like each individual thing was being added to an already teetering pile of bullshit that could be knocked over with the slightest change in wind. He hadn’t known though that he just needed to work _with_ the wind, not against it, that he needed to let himself feel whatever it was instead of pushing against it so strongly that he exhausted himself.

The confusing thing was that he didn’t feel any _differently_ for Liam; he’d just realised that what he’d always felt was deeper than he’d believed, that best friends didn’t actually act like they did because they’d never only been best friends. He’d always loved Liam, with his whole chest. He just hadn’t realised.

His baba had always said that love would sneak up on him when he didn’t expect it, and Zayn wondered now if he’d known the whole time and was just waiting on Zayn to realise it himself. It had though, had crept up so slowly that nothing had been able to interrupt it while it grew stronger and wound itself around his bones like a vine, growing with him until he wouldn’t be able to part with it without ripping out his own chest.

“I don’t know how to tell him yet,” Zayn interrupted the quiet that’d settled over them, but Louis just shrugged.

“I don’t think you have to right now. It’s enough that you know it. He doesn’t need to know the ins and outs while he’s still undercover.”

Zayn reached for another cigarette, frowning when he shook it only to find it empty. He groaned, really didn’t want to leave to buy another one, but then Louis was reaching into his own pocket.

“Oh, come now. Surely you didn’t think I came unprepared.” He put two brand new packets on the table with a grin. Zayn shot him an amused look, but he just opened one of them and pulled out two more. “You don’t think I came here without asking Niall what you might need, did you?”

Zayn laughed, lighting it and dropping back into the chair, letting his feet fall. “Thanks man. Now, tell me about Harry.”

The sly grin on Louis’ face said enough.

*****

_It’s just Liam,_ Zayn reminded himself as he took a deep breath. Just Liam. Just knock on the fucking door. _Do it. Louis knows you’re coming here so you can’t back out, just knock on the door._

He rapped sharply three times on the wood, regretting it instantly because there was every possibility Liam would slam the door in his face. He’d deserve it, absolutely, but the thought didn’t make it hurt any less. Louis had made sure Harry was out of the room, taking him for a picnic or something else ridiculously cute because _‘he’s the one for me, Zayn. I can feel it’._ It’d been sweet until he’d started waxing poetically about Harry’s legs, but Zayn had sat and listened because he was a good friend, and Louis had helped reset his entire thought process.

The door swung open while he was lost in his thoughts, and his heart thudded in his chest at Liam’s tired eyes and downturned mouth.

“Zayn.” It was emotionless, straight to the point, and any hope Zayn had had fell onto the floor. “What are you doing here?”

There was no time like the present, he supposed. 

“I’m so sorry, God Liam, I’m sorry.” He stepped forward as Liam watched him warily, but his posture shifted, opening up slightly, and Zayn had to hold back from touching him. “I shouldn’t have left, I regret it so much. I’m just so overwhelmed Li, and normally I talk to you about everything but I can’t talk to you about it when you’re the problem, so I panicked and bailed.” 

Liam raised an eyebrow. “I’m the _problem?_ ” 

“No, not like a _bad_ problem, I just,” Zayn let out a frustrated noise, aware he was still in the hallway where anyone could walk past. “Can I please come in?” 

There was a moment where Zayn thought he’d say no, but then Liam was stepping back into the room to lean against his desk, arms folded over his chest and looking the very definition of closed off. Zayn could work with that. He stepped slowly into the room, closing the door behind him, and stood in front of Liam. 

“I shouldn’t have left,” he repeated, and Liam just stared at him.

“No, you shouldn’t have. Do you have any idea how awful it felt to wake up without you here?” Liam’s arms fell to his sides. “You told me we’d talk, Zayn.”

“I know, and it’s not an excuse, but I’m just so confused, Liam.” Zayn took a step forward, feeling like anything was better than where he was. “It’s the worst time for me to have to try and figure out how I feel about you, and everything’s changed so much in the last week that I just got overwhelmed. I’m so sorry.” 

Liam’s nose twitched, a sure sign to Zayn that he was trying to hold back a smile. He seemed to catch it though, pushing it away before Zayn got to see the corner of his mouth quirk. “Do you think this isn’t confusing for me too? I know how I feel about you Zayn, I _know,_ but it didn’t make it less overwhelming or easier to handle. It made it harder when you ran off on me at the pool and then kissed me the next day, and when you treated me like shit after Annie’s interview but then had sex with me.” Shame pooled heavily in Zayn’s stomach and he swallowed, trying to get rid of it, but then Liam reached out to cover his twitching fingers. His hand was gentle when he stroked a thumb over the back of Zayn’s hand, and when he met Liam’s eyes, they’d softened just a touch. “I need you to always be honest with me, because that’s how we always have been. I can’t have you running away at the first sign of a possible problem.” 

It was a reminder that this really was still just Liam, his best friend and partner that he trusted with his life. It gave him the courage to let out some of his feelings before they got too overwhelming again. “I only left at the pool because you told me I was a good distraction,” Zayn said quietly, stepping closer to fit into the vee of Liam’s legs. “It made me feel like the only reason you’d wanted me at all was because you wanted a distraction from the assignment, and I just happened to be there.” 

“ _Oh._ Oh, God no.” Liam’s free hand snuck up to settle in the dip of Zayn’s waist, and even that felt different, like the intent behind every touch was clear now. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry. I just meant that if Anthony thought you were a distraction, that you’d distract me from the case, then you were the best possible distraction because you’re always the best possible thing.” Liam frowned right away, looking up and away. “I don’t think that made sense.” 

Zayn laughed softly and moved closer, resting his arms on Liam’s shoulders and tangling a hand in his hair when his stomach swooped. “It made enough sense.” 

“Promise you won’t run away again?” Liam murmured, pulling Zayn against him with a hand at the small of his back, and Zayn melted slightly into him with a soft noise. 

“Promise.”

Last night, Zayn had tried to keep things frantic and heated, hadn’t wanted to let his feelings invade the moment when he had needed to switch his mind off. Now, he purposefully did the exact opposite, trying to convey without words exactly what Liam meant to him. 

He held the back of Liam’s head as their lips connected, keeping it chaste as he combed his fingers through Liam’s curls, taking his bottom lip between his own lips. Zayn nudged their noses together before he kissed him again, still soft, letting his other hand settle against the side of Liam’s neck. He pressed his body closer, close enough to feel him shiver as he kissed him harder, a little bit deeper, a little bit _more._

Liam’s fingers were twitching on his hips, restless as they ran smoothly up his sides, and Zayn sighed into his mouth just before Liam nipped his bottom lip, soothing it with his tongue. 

It’d been _years_ since he’d kissed someone like this, just for the sake of kissing, to enjoy being so close to someone. He stroked his thumb along Liam’s jaw, teased at his lips with his tongue, and when Liam moaned and smoothed a firm hand up his spine over his t-shirt, Zayn moved even closer and slid his tongue into his mouth. 

God, Liam was _brilliant_ at this, every flick of his tongue and dig of his fingers making Zayn feel like he was slowly coming alive under Liam’s touch. He stroked Liam’s tongue with his own, licking into his mouth as he ran his hand down Liam’s chest to slip under his shirt, teasing fingers running over his skin until he couldn’t stop them turning greedy and searching. Liam was all muscle and warm skin, addictive and almost heady when he kissed Zayn harder, faster, his hand dropping to grip Zayn’s thigh and shift. 

Zayn was half hard already, but when Liam hitched his leg up to wrap around his hip, his hand leaving a burning path from Zayn’s knee to his waist, Zayn let himself fall into the fire where it sparked inside him. 

He kissed Liam hard once, scratching over his abs pulling he tugged at his shirt. They pulled apart just enough to whip their shirts off, and when they came back together, Zayn dug his nails into Liam’s back with a hiss. 

“Liam.” It felt wrong to speak louder than a murmur, but he couldn’t hold back the small moan that left his lips when Liam kissed along his jawline and sucked softly at the skin below his ear. “Liam, what do you want?” 

“You. I just want you, love.” 

The pet name was new, making Zayn gasp and arch into him. “Li, touch me.” 

Even as Liam undressed him, every touch was reverent, like Zayn was something precious and Liam was lucky to have him. Zayn could feel how Liam felt about him in every touch, every kiss, every gentle grind of Liam’s hips, and by the time Liam had wrapped a hand around both of their cocks, Zayn was dangerously close to coming. 

Liam did this like he did everything else, with care and his commitment to wanting to be the best. It was slowly taking Zayn apart, how everything Liam did somehow felt both intentional and spontaneous, and when he flicked his wrist over the heads of their cocks, Zayn groaned his name as he came between them. He had just enough presence of mind to hear Liam’s following moan, feel his release hit his skin as he slumped in Liam’s arms. 

He relaxed into Liam, warm and real and loving, and asked the only thing he cared about in that moment. 

Liam chuckled, rubbing his hand softly over Zayn’s back and kissing his temple. “I don’t have to meet Louis for a few hours. Where does Anthony think you are?” 

“He’s at a few meetings back at headquarters,” Zayn hummed, curling up closer to Liam even as he tried to move them to the bed. “Won’t be back for an hour or so.” 

They fell onto the bed, tangled limbs and gentle touches. It was a position they’d been in countless times before, the only difference now that they were naked, and it should’ve felt _different_ , Zayn thought. _They_ should’ve felt different.

Liam’s hand was tickling lightly over Zayn’s back when he spoke. “I thought this might feel weird, you know? Like, changing our friendship would feel awkward, but it doesn’t.”

“Same, but I just kind of feel like this was where we were always gonna end up.” Zayn settled more into Liam’s chest. “Maybe that’s the weird part.”

Liam just chuckled. “I don’t think it’s weird at all.”

When Zayn drifted off, it was to Liam tugging him even closer, and the thought that maybe this could work. 

  
  


*****

The second Zayn stepped back into the suite, Shawn called him over to the dining table. He was sitting with Neal, surrounded by files and images as Niall typed furiously at his computer in the corner. 

“What are you looking for?” Zayn leant over the table, the jumble of files seemingly having no order. 

“We’re just trying to find a connection with the stiletto. They couldn’t really narrow it down to a brand or type or anything,” Shawn explained, searching through the papers to hand Zayn the photo of the latest victim’s neck wound. “It looks like the edges were only rough because the unsub was rough and pushed it in too quickly.”

Zayn had seen the photo before, dozens of times, but he still asked to see the same wounds on the other victims as he searched for his glasses. Shawn passed them over after a quick search, and Zayn wrinkled his nose at the papers strewn everywhere.

“How do you find anything in this mess?” Zayn settled his glasses on his face and sat down, clearing a space around him on the surface. 

Neal snorted, not looking up from where he was combing through what looked like detailed phone bills. “He doesn’t, he just pretends he doesn’t need the file if he can’t find it.”

“Hush please, I found the photos.”

Zayn looked at him, eyebrow raised as he took them. “Mate, seriously. I won’t be able to sleep tonight if this is still like this.” Shawn flipped him off, leaving Zayn to compare the photos on his own. 

The wounds on the first three victims were almost identical, and it was no surprise they hadn’t noticed the use of a second instrument until the fourth. Zayn brought the photos closer to his face, trying to find any sign of the half circle shape, but when he realised there wasn’t one, he shook his head. Shawn must’ve noticed his confused expression, sitting down to join him.

“Alright?”

“How did they know it was a stiletto?”

Shawn sat back in his chair, crossing his legs. “The shape at the point of entry, and the way the wound flares towards the top but stays thin in the neck, like the further it was pushed in, the larger it got.”

“Like it was moving back towards the heel,” Zayn murmured, brows furrowing as he started chewing at his thumb. “There’s no sign of that in the first three victims, and the punctures in the necks aren’t so big that they’d completely lose the shape of the heel. Well, I don’t think. Do we have a stiletto?”

Neal looked up then, amusement written on his face. “Why would we just have them lying around?”

“I don’t know Neal, maybe so we can do the kind of comparison I’m trying to?” Zayn sighed, pulling out his phone. “Let me call Louis, hang on.”

Louis answered on the second ring, bright and happy. _“Hello, Malik. What can I do for you this fine morning? Apart from kick your arse for giving your fucking partner hickeys that need to be covered with makeup?”_

Zayn instantly regretted putting him on speaker. “You are on speakerphone, you _twat._ ” It was too late though; Niall, Neal, and Shawn looked like all their Christmases had come at once. Zayn squeezed his eyes shut, holding up his hand. “Do not start, any of you.”

Louis was cackling down the line though. _“Sorry mate, you’re supposed to tell someone when they’re on speaker!”_

“I would’ve if you’d given me the chance, you wanker.” Zayn threw a pen at Niall without looking at where he’d practically started vibrating in his seat. “Anyway, do you have any stilettos down there that you could bring up? I’m trying to figure something out for the case and I need one.”

_“Yeah, too easy. I don’t have any personally because Payno won’t be using them, but I think there’s some in the communal wardrobe.”_

Zayn ignored Niall when he came and sat next to him, pulling his chair right over and grinning so widely Zayn thought his face might break. “There’s a communal wardrobe? Why does that gross me out?”

_“It’s just some essential stuff for last minute breakages or forgotten shit, you weirdo. I’ll bring one up, Liam can manage on his own for a bit.”_

“Thanks man, I’ll see you in a sec.” Zayn had already hung up when he wished he’d kept Louis on the phone for as long as possible, because Niall was lounging back in his chair with a shiteating grin on his face, and he was impossible to ignore when he got like this. Zayn sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “What?”

“Don’t _what_ me, you dickhead. Did I hear correctly that you’ve been giving our very own Special Agent Liam Payne _hickeys_? How scandalous,” Niall faux whispered.

It startled an incredulous laugh out of Zayn as he looked at Niall, shaking his head. “Shut up. We’re just figuring some things out.”

Niall snorted, but he was still grinning, and Zayn couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. “Well, I for one am _thrilled_. It’s like you’ve always been our dads, but now you’re like, _married_ dads.”

“Do you ever think before you open your mouth?” There was a knock on the door just before Louis strolled in, interrupting what Zayn was sure would’ve been Niall’s affronted speech, twirling a silver stiletto in his hand. “Go away, I’ll tell you everything later.” It seemed enough to placate him, and Niall bounced back over to his desk with a grin. “Hey Lou, thanks for bringing it up.”

“Too easy, mate.” Louis slipped into the seat Niall had just left, putting the stiletto on the table in front of Zayn with a _thud_. “I don’t know if this is helpful because of the metal work along the heel, but there was only one of them, so I figured it’d be better to steal this one rather than one that had a pair.”

Zayn picked it up, examining the metal twisted to look like leaves that wrapped around the stem of the shoe and up to the back of it. “Nah it should be fine. I mainly need it for the bottom bit here.” He tapped at the end of the heel, rotating the whole thing in his hands.

“It’s actually called a top piece,” Louis said, slouching down and looking curiously at the photos on the tables.

“But it’s on the _bottom_. Also stop doing that, you’ll come across something you don’t want to see.”

Louis shrugged, moving another picture aside anyway. “I don’t make the rules, mate.”

Now that he had one in his hand, Zayn found it even weirder that it’d been used in that way when the knife had already done its job. “Is this thin for a stiletto, or about average?”

“About average. Why?”

Zayn just looked at him over the picture. “You know this is literally a government case, right?”

“And I’ve been very helpful, thank you very much.”

He wasn’t wrong, but Zayn just rolled his eyes and kept studying the pictures. The first three were almost perfect circles, small but precise, and the report showed it was due to the knife being rotated while it was inserted, a knife that had a blade on both sides; a dagger, more likely. The entry points on these victims were too small though for the stiletto to have been inserted, the wider flare near the top definitely not being shown in the injury.

The unsub could’ve used a different shoe, but what would be the point? Everything seemed to be done on a specific plan, the same weapons and materials used even with the fourth when the unsub had lost some of their control. Zayn slowly spun the shoe in his hand, ignoring Niall and Louis talking about Liam’s talent segment coming up. He looked at the intricate detailing of the metal leaves, the lines and points, couldn’t imagine _why_ the shoe would’ve only been used on the latest victim. To make a point?

Zayn pushed a harsh breath out through his nose, looking back at the most recent photo. The loss of control still didn’t make sense, but with no known motivation and only a theory of jealousy or attraction to that type of man, they had nothing to go on.

Until Zayn experienced that moment where all the puzzle pieces _click_.

“Oh my God.”

Shawn looked up at him, hunched over a stack of reports. “What?”

Zayn slammed the shoe on the table and picked up the photo. “It wasn’t just _a_ stiletto. It’s the _missing one in this pair_.” He pointed to the bruising around the wound. “See? The pattern around here is the pattern from the lowest level of leaves, the points and the imprint. It pushed into the skin when the unsub pressed it deeper into the neck. Louis, you said there was only one of these?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t look thoroughly, it could’ve been hiding somewhere.”

Shawn and Neal were already standing though, grabbing their jackets and moving towards the door. “We’ll go look for it.”

“Thanks guys.” Zayn was staring at all the photos now, gripping the shoe tightly again. “It looks like they only used it on the last victim, but I don’t know why. It’s such a break from the pattern, the heel wouldn’t have fit in the other wounds.” And then it hit him again, and he would’ve felt knocked if he didn’t revel in the feeling of it all coming together. He let his hand drop as his lips quirked. “Because he wouldn’t have had access before then to something so connected to the pageant. They didn’t set up until the day before, so the unsub had time that day to grab one to use that night.”

It meant they were definitely here then, that they had to be involved somehow in the pageant itself.

“A contestant?” Niall asked, even as he was moving back to his computer.

Louis shook his head though. “Contestants don’t come on site until the next day, but there’d be hundreds of people bumping in. It’s not just the people behind the scenes of the actual pageant but set up crews and construction people for sets and everything.”

“Niall, can you get a list of everyone who had onsite access that day?”

Niall was already typing though. “Who do you think I am? Please, I’m already on it.”

“I think it’s a message, not a means for another way to hurt someone,” Zayn explained, trying to get his words out properly. “It clearly wasn’t part of the routine, and it came just after we took over the case and the unsub knew he’d left good enough clues for us to get to the pageant. They want to show us they still have the reins, that they’re already here.”

“Did they really leave good enough clues though?” Niall frowned, tapping frantically at his keyboard in a way that only he could make look easy. “It was only the riddle we found on you that led us here.”

Was it though? Zayn could feel the thrumming in his veins, adrenaline flowing through his system from the fact he’d figured it out, and it felt like his brain was ticking over everything else too, like it finally felt connected enough again to look at everything properly. He frantically pushed through the mess of files, frustrated at Shawn’s complete lack of organisation before he remembered he’d had the riddles on the balcony. He jogged out to get them, the file open as he walked back in, already reading.

_‘…the stage of representation…’_

_‘…peace within the world…’_

_‘…what talent one must possess…’_

Fuck, it’d been there the _whole time_ , mentions of pageant specifics in broad statements mentioned in every riddle.

“It wasn’t just the riddle on me that should’ve led us here,” Zayn waved the files at Niall from across the room, “it was just that the police department hadn’t made the connection. The church was because the pageant was too close for us to miss. It wasn’t that it was out of pattern! It was an _addition_ to make sure we had enough time to figure out the pageant.” His hands dropped as he stared at the web of evidence in front of him. “They had to make sure we were here.”

“But why bring us here, just because you think it makes you look smarter if you can outdo us?” Niall questioned, pausing for a moment as his computer ran some details. “We have no idea who they’re targeting, or why.”

Zayn threw himself into the chair again, zoning out as he poured over the riddles, trying to connect them to any of the people he’d come across so far.

_‘…fake shades of blue…’_

_‘…coverings as black as night…’_

_‘…wisdom but no youth…’_

_‘…a lifelong connection…’_

_‘…twins of destruction…’_

“Thomas. It’s Thomas, the contestant who wears blue contacts. He’s married with two kids, has black hair, he’s one of the oldest contestants,” Zayn blurted out, the words rolling off his tongue before he could properly articulate them. “I don’t know why he’s the target, and I don’t even know if I’m right, but he fits the clues and it’s the best we have.”

Niall made an impressed sound and turned back to his computer. “Let me bring up my own file on him. Gimme about half an hour. I’ll send something to Anth as well.”

It’d been right there the whole time, hidden in plain sight and Zayn was _mad_ at himself that he hadn’t realised sooner. Fuck, it’d been _right there._ He was pulled out of his anger though, when Louis spoke behind him.

“Hey, I recognise this guy! Is this Jacob McIntyre?”

Zayn spun around so quickly he almost lost his balance. “Yeah, he’s the fourth victim. I thought we showed you all the photos of them.”

Louis was studying the photo carefully as he picked it up from the table. “You showed me the first three, but the fourth one happened when I’d already been hired. He was married to one of the women in the pageant circle, Brooklyn I think?”

“You _know_ them?” They’d spoken to Brooklyn and she’d quickly been cleared. She’d been interviewed by Kirby and Neal just after the murder, but she’d never mentioned pageants at all. “She never mentioned anything about pageants.”

“She might not have thought it was important,” Louis mused, “but she’s always been the kind of person that wanted everyone to think they had a perfect marriage. The pageants just would’ve brought everything back that reminded her that they didn’t.”

It was a common thing, to lie about something that made you look bad during an investigation so you could pretend you had a perfect life. It was one of the most frustrating things to deal with, because all it did was hide away information that they never would’ve been judged on anyway. “Why would they bring back bad memories?”

Louis tsked and sat back in his chair. “Jacob cheated on her when he was in pageants through Syco. They met through the community, but he was sleeping with a man for a few months. Apparently, the man had no idea he was married, he was supposedly heartbroken when Jacob called it off. It was such a shame too because Brooklyn’s so sweet. They both stopped competing after that.”

Zayn felt like he’d been punched in the chest. He looked at Niall with wide eyes, found him staring back in shock.

“We have to go back and interview her.”

*****

Zayn had called Kirby straight away and organised for her to meet him at Brooklyn’s apartment just out of the city. He wanted someone who’d already spoken with her and Neal was still trying to track down the other stiletto with Shawn. He’d called Anthony too to let him know, expecting him to tell Zayn he wasn’t to go, but he quickly accepted the argument Zayn gave, albeit narcissistic, that he was the best profiler aside from Liam, and they needed to be able to get as much information from her as possible.

The second she opened the door, she was already downcast, her eyes guilty and posture defeated.

“Hello, Brooklyn. I’m Special Agent Malik, I know you’ve met Special Agent Anderson before.” He shot her a blinding grin. “May we please come in?”

It only took 30 seconds to get her to admit that Jacob had cheated on her. She’d insisted that they’d fixed their marriage, the affair over seven years ago so she hadn’t thought it important. She couldn’t remember the name of the other man, just knew that he was younger, that she didn’t blame him for something he hadn’t known was a problem.

Zayn called Anthony as soon as he was back in the car, buckling his seatbelt as Kirby pulled away from the curb. “Hey, she admitted it straight away.”

Anthony’s sigh of frustration was loud right in Zayn’s ear. _“Why do people insist on keeping secrets as if we give a shit?”_

“I have no idea, sir,” Zayn said with an amused look at Kirby, “but I was thinking maybe while we’re out, we should go back and ask the other widows about it. I know it seems callous, but it might be a connection we’ve been missing.”

_“Go for it, there’s no harm in making sure. I’ve just arrived back at the hotel, Horan mentioned you think Thomas Keating is the intended victim.”_

“Yes sir, there was more in the riddles than we originally thought.”

_“Excellent work, Malik. When you get back, we’ll organise surveillance on him. For now, Mendes said to tell you he couldn’t find the other shoe. I’ll get him to fill me in. Make sure you go easy on the wives.”_

Zayn raised an eyebrow, even though Anthony couldn’t see him. “I’m not going to interrogate them. You know we’ll handle it.”

_“Great. We’ll see you when you’re back.”_

*****

It would’ve been obvious to anyone in the suite when he got back that he was frustrated, throwing his phone on top of the mess of files still littering the table. His frustration wasn’t rooted in the fact that they hadn’t found anything, but rather that they _had_ , that the information had been kept from them so the women could pretend they’d had perfect marriages.

All of the victims had cheated on their wives with men.

They didn’t appear to all be the same men, and the women also didn’t know each other. Niall still hadn’t been able to find a proper connection between the victims, and Zayn was about ready to tear his hair out. The chances that these were just vigilante killings seemed unlikely, no connection making it difficult to see how the unsub would’ve connected them all, but it couldn’t be ruled out.

“I can’t believe we could’ve had this information from the start,” Zayn complained, throwing himself onto the couch and resting his head in his hands.

Anthony made a sound of agreement from his place at the table. “It’s frustrating, but we still haven’t found a link aside from that so I don’t know how much help it would’ve been earlier.”

Zayn threw his head back against the couch. “Can you not just let me wallow, for once?” He groaned, lifting his head again to glare at him.

“Oh, how silly of me, let me try again.” Anthony sat up straight, hands clasped in front of him, and continued in the most monotone voice Zayn had ever heard. “Oh, how annoying that this hasn’t changed anything yet. You have every right to sulk even though you made the most breakthroughs today and we have more leads than ever.” He relaxed his posture and quirked an eyebrow. “Better?”

Zayn grinned despite himself. “Much, thanks. What’s the plan for Thomas?” 

“The talent segment is tonight, and we’ve managed to switch the schedule so he’s right at the beginning. We’ve got cameras trained on his dressing room, but not one in there.” Anthony was shuffling some of the files, putting them neatly in stacks to the side. “We can’t let him know he’s a target without causing mass panic, so we have to just be as vigilant as possible. We’ll all be down on the ground, except for you. I need you up here watching the cameras so you can let us know what’s happening at all times.” 

He hated being shafted to essentially desk duty, but there was no point arguing. “And Niall?” 

“He’s going back to headquarters to use our larger database. He couldn’t find anything on Thomas, which is odd in itself, because he couldn’t find _anything,”_ Anthony explained, brows furrowed. “He’s hoping to dig deeper back at Thames.” 

Zayn nodded, getting up to help Anthony sort the papers. “Makes sense.”

“Hey, I’m really impressed with the work you did today.” Anthony smiled at him, and Zayn just smiled back. 

“Thank you, sir. Just doing my job.” 

“Yes, but you managed to do it just as brilliantly without Liam. That’s not to say you’re not still the strongest partnership we have, but I just want you to remember that you’re more than capable on your own.” 

Zayn coughed and swallowed heavily, trying to keep his smile genuine. He couldn’t tell Anthony that he was wrong without admitting that he’d been seeing Liam behind his back. “I still miss him.” 

“I know,” Anthony said simply, “which is why this schedule has to go to Louis, and I believe he may be in the middle of training someone on the third floor, second door on the left out of the lift. Everyone else is busy, so if you wouldn’t mind just ducking down there, I’d really appreciate it.” He raised his eyebrows, amusement in his eyes, and waved a piece of paper at Zayn. 

He snatched it without a second thought. “Thank you, Anthony. I appreciate it.” Zayn grinned, already moving towards the door.

“Malik.”

Zayn paused, turning back with his hand on the doorknob. “Yes, sir?”

“This is the only time. Understood.” 

“Understood.” 

His heart was pounding as he left the room, the strain of lying to Anthony taking its toll. He’d wanted to fill Liam in on everything anyway, but at least now, he didn’t have to sneak around to do it. 

He could hear music coming through the door when he knocked, pushing it open slowly and stopping short. Liam was in the corner, arms folded with a grin, Louis at the front of the room, but it was the person in the middle that made his throat seize up. 

Harry was there, wearing booty shorts and stilettos, practicing what looked like a baton routine. Zayn panicked slightly, knowing Harry wasn’t supposed to see him, but Louis had already turned and noticed him. 

“Malik! What are you doing here?” He was laughing, turning back to watch Harry, but Harry had stopped to look at him curiously. 

Liam seemed to realise the problem straight away, his eyes widening in horror, but Zayn couldn’t leave _now_ , also couldn’t give Louis a document from MI5 in front of Harry, so he just shoved it in his pocket, and wandered across to Liam. 

“Tommo. Hope you’re not working my boy too hard,” he joked, knowing Harry wouldn’t notice the fear in his tone even though Liam would. “Hey babe, how’s it going?” Without giving it much thought, Zayn pressed a hand to Liam’s cheek and kissed him lightly on the mouth. 

When he went to pull back though, Liam made a soft noise and slid a hand into Zayn’s hair, kissing him harder and scratching gently at his scalp. Zayn let out a tiny moan, something he’d deny if ever asked about it, but he wrapped an arm around Liam’s neck and sucked on his lower lip. 

“Okay you two, alright!” Louis’ voice cut through the air, but Zayn ignored him, letting Liam pull him closer by his hips. “Don’t make me get the hose, you randy bastards!” 

Zayn pulled back to take a deep breath when he heard Harry giggle. “Hey babe,” he murmured, brushing Liam’s hair back from his face. “Anthony said I could come see you, so I jumped at it.” 

Liam just nudged their noses together and kissed him quickly. “‘m glad you’re here.” 

“You’re always glad when I’m here,” Zayn teased, and then Liam was kissing him again, hot and wet and searching. 

“Oi, cut it out! Zayn, get your mouth off of him and come meet my boy.” Louis sounded pleased, and Zayn squeezed his eyes shut at the realisation that Harry had his full name now. 

He made sure there was a smile on his face when he pulled away from Liam though, moving forward to shake Harry’s hand. “Hey Harry, it’s great to meet you. I’ve heard brilliant things.” It was the truth, but Harry still flushed. 

“It’s great to meet you too! You must be Will’s boyfriend.” 

Zayn forced out a laugh. “Yep! So what are you all doing?” 

“Practicing our talents! Will was singing before and he’s _so good,_ but I’m sure you know that!” Harry was like a bundle of sunshine, energetic and eager, and he only brightened more when Louis slid an arm around his waist. “I’m doing baton twirling, see?” 

It was almost like a blur when Zayn tried to watch it, but he couldn’t deny it was impressive. The heels only added to how difficult it must’ve been because Harry seemed to have legs like a baby deer, only wobbling when he finished the routine, like he was a completely different person during it. 

Zayn clapped when it was done, grinning when Harry bowed, and meeting him made Zayn realise how stupid he’d been to ever be jealous. Harry seemed sweet, but the way he looked at Louis left nothing to the imagination. 

“Very impressive.” Zayn nodded at him, settling into Liam’s side when an arm came over his shoulders. 

“Isn’t it?” Louis piped up. “It’s a more traditional pageant talent, and I’m trying to get him to spice it up with _fire_ batons, but he won’t do it.” 

“I don’t think I’m allowed to,” Harry frowned, even as he looked wistfully at the normal ones in his hands. “What if I get in trouble?” 

Zayn let Harry and Louis argue for a moment, turning to Liam and nuzzling his face in his neck. “I need to catch you up on the case, but I can’t do it with Harry here,” he whispered. “I’ll email it to you.”

“I could just drop by later,” Liam murmured back, smoothing a hand down Zayn’s spine and settling it on the small of his back. “Will you be in the suite?”

“I’ll be the only one there, but that’s part of what I have to tell you.”

“Alright.” Liam kissed the tip of his nose, making Zayn giggle. “Email me the details.” And then he kissed Zayn again, Louis and Harry fading further into the background, and Zayn just let himself _feel_. 

*****

“Nialllll, please!” Zayn pouted at the screen where he was on FaceTime with Niall. “I just wanna watch it! I can’t go down and see it, and Liam hardly ever sings around me.” 

_“Fine! I’ll set up a stream for you to watch, will that work? In about five minutes? I think he’s due on in about 10.”_

“Perfect! Thanks Ni.” Zayn grinned at him, setting the phone down carefully against his water bottle. “Are you coming back soon?” 

A frustrated groan came through the speakers as Niall rolled his eyes. _“Don’t think so. I don’t know why I can’t find anything on Thomas outside of the pageant. I’ve tried searching different last names with the same date of birth, but there’s no matches that fit him. I’ll have to keep looking.”_

Zayn gave him a sympathetic look just as the TV clicked on. “Sorry mate, I’m sure you’ll find something. Did you do that? The TV just came on.” 

_“Yeah, I’m just trying to set up the camera in the hall for you to watch, is the picture there?”_

It flickered to life just as he finished, and Zayn seemed to be catching the end of Harry’s routine. He looked genuinely thrilled, a wide smile and sparkly outfit that matched his nails, high heels that never teetered once. 

“Yeah mate, that’s perfect, thanks.”

_“No worries. Are the other screens all okay?”_

Zayn looked around at the smaller screens surrounding him, black and white footage of every possible hallway leading to Thomas’ room. There was no other way into the dressing room and Thomas had gone straight back there after his performance and hadn’t left since. 

“All good, all still working fine.” 

Niall gave him a thumbs up. _“If you have any problems, just let me know. Alright, I’m gonna go, your boy’s on now anyway I think.”_

He’d hung up before Zayn could say goodbye, but he was right. Liam had just walked onto the stage, looking _incredible_ in a dark blue suit, white shirt buttoned to his collar again, and shiny black dress shoes.

Zayn really needed to send Louis some flowers. 

He settled back further into the couch, curling up as he watched Liam wave to the crowd, smiling widely as the music started. He could still remember the first time he’d thought Liam was beautiful, years ago when he was trying to figure out exactly what made him so attractive, studying him one day while they went over their notes for one of their exams. It had taken Zayn weeks to figure out it was his smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as it took over his face.

And then Liam opened his mouth and started to sing Human Nature, their go-to karaoke song, and Zayn’s entire being felt like it belonged completely to Liam. 

God, he loved him _so much_ , so much that he knew he’d never feel this way about anyone else. It seemed dramatic, maybe over the top, but it didn’t make it less _real_. Zayn wanted Liam everyday for the rest of his life, wanted everything.

He watched with wide eyes as Liam finished, perfect tone and pitch, his voice strong and sure, and Zayn almost joined in when everyone clapped in the audience. 

Until he glanced back to the security screens and realised they were all black. 

It was like fire spread through his entire body, a hot flush of absolute panic that had him frozen. He clicked the mouse in case they’d just gone to sleep, made sure they were plugged in as he called Niall, but deep down, he already knew what had happened.

Zayn had completely, and absolutely, fucked up. 

He was shoving his feet into his shoes when Niall answered, his heart pounding in his chest. He’d had _one fucking job,_ and he hadn’t even managed to do it right. 

_“Hey man, - .”_

“Niall the screens went black, I can’t see anything. I’m just on my way down there, but can you see when they went dark?”

Niall’s sharp intake of breath made him want to _cry. “Four minutes ago. Zayn, what - .”_

But Zayn was already hanging up, fixing his earpiece as he sprinted to the lift. “Anthony, can you hear me? Anthony.” 

The line crackled in Zayn’s earpiece. _“Yes Malik, what is it?”_

There was no point in sugar coating it, because Zayn was fucked regardless. “The screens are black, I’m heading down, I couldn’t see anything.” The lift dinged and Zayn ran out the doors, his heart still in his throat as he pulled his gun from its holster. “I’m already on the floor, I’m heading there now.” 

Anthony swore loudly. _“Fuck, be alert. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”_

God, what an absolute _fuck up._ Zayn slowed right down as he approached Thomas’ room, moving carefully with his gun in front of him. He kept his footsteps light, kicking the already ajar door gently with his foot. The door opened slowly, and when Zayn finally moved into the room, his entire body felt like it shut down. 

Thomas was lying on the ground, bleeding from his forehead with his eyes closed, limp and not moving. Zayn swore, quickly checking the room to make sure no one was still there, putting his gun away and dropping to his knees. 

“Please still be breathing, please still be breathing,” he muttered to himself, hands shaking slightly as they pressed against Thomas’ neck. 

The soft _thump_ of a pulse moved under his fingertips just as Anthony and Neal burst through the door. Zayn’s head shot up, and he couldn’t even imagine how stricken he looked. Anthony just stared at him, waiting. 

“He has a pulse, I only just got here. I haven’t called for an ambulance yet.” 

Neal immediately got Niall on the comms, asking for help, but Anthony didn’t move, his gaze unwavering, and Zayn didn’t think he’d ever seen so many conflicting emotions on his face. 

Anthony’s voice was cold, too. “We’ve kept all the contestants near the stage. They have to still be here somewhere. You go to the right, I’ll take the left.” He moved immediately, pistol cocked and ready. 

Zayn took a steadying breath but it didn’t help, pulled out and cocked his own gun before he moved out the door and around the corner. All of the doors were shut as Zayn moved past them, quickly checking around corners. It wasn’t until he saw the first open door that he realised which part he was in. 

And realised it was Liam’s room. 

The light was off inside, but the beams from the hallway were brightening Liam’s dressing room just enough that Zayn could see in; there was someone in there, at Liam’s table, their silhouette pitch black. 

He needed to be rational. He needed to think this through, and handle this situation delicately. He needed to remember that Liam wasn’t in the room, wasn't about to get hurt. 

But then the stranger moved, a piece of paper in their hand and something metal in the other, and Zayn was moving before he realised. 

He ran, tackling them straight to the ground as they wrestled against him, both of them grunting and kicking as Zayn’s gun went sliding across the floor. Anthony was in his ear asking where he was, but Zayn could hear him in the hallway too, and suddenly the light to Liam’s dressing room switched on, and Zayn froze above the man. 

He recognised him from the staff files they’d been given. Alex, makeup artist, 28 years old. Currently staring up at Zayn with absolute terror on his face, a schedule in one word, and a metallic bottle of hair product in the other. 

“I - I was just dropping off these for Will tomorrow, why are you doing this?” His voice shook as his eyes widened even further, and Zayn followed his gaze to his own gun on the floor. 

No one was supposed to know they were here, at least none of the staff or contestants. Zayn scrambled off him, apologising over and over again as he grabbed his gun. His hands were shaking and he felt sick, but nothing made him feel worse than when he spun around to see Anthony in the door. 

And he looked _furious_.

*****

“I have _never_ in my _life_ been more furious! Not just at you, but any member of my team! What the _fuck_ were you thinking, Malik!” Anthony had been yelling at him for what felt like hours, and Zayn had stayed silent the entire time, head hung in shame as they sat across the table from each other. “Those screens were down for four whole minutes before you even realised! And don’t think I’m stupid enough to miss that it was the exact time Liam was performing. Thomas is going to be fine, but do you have _any_ idea how lucky he is?” Anthony slammed his hand down on the table. “Do you?” 

“I know, sir,” Zayn choked out, wringing his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not enough, Malik. This whole case, you and Payne have been an issue, and _now_ ,” Anthony laughed humourlessly, and Zayn shrunk back in his seat, “now you let that relationship affect your job so much that someone could’ve been killed, and you wondered why I wanted to keep you both separate! What on _earth_ made you tackle Alex?” 

Zayn had never felt more like shit. “I saw the paper and the glint of the metal and I thought it was a riddle and a knife, I just _reacted_ \- .”

But Anthony was already shaking his head. “No, you didn’t just react. I’ve worked hundreds of cases with you, and I’ve seen how you normally handle situations like this. This wasn’t a _reaction_ , Malik. It was you completely forgetting protocol and letting your emotions completely take over because of Payne. He wasn’t even in the room!” Anthony was still shaking his head, and when he met Zayn’s eyes, there was disbelief hiding behind the anger. “I had Niall show me the security footage over the last few days. He was reluctant, and I understood why the second I saw you and Payne sneaking around to see each other. I gave you a _direct order_ , Malik. You promised me that you would follow it, and you couldn’t even do it for 24 hours! Do you have anything to say for yourself?” 

There was nothing Zayn could say that would fix it. “No, sir.” 

Anthony sighed. “You have let a personal relationship affect your work on this case, and let emotion completely cloud your judgement in a life or death situation. Special Agent Malik, you’re off the case, and you’re suspended. Leave your gun and your badge. You are not to set foot in headquarters or this hotel.” Anthony waved his hand, not looking at him anymore. “Get out of my sight.” 

Zayn stood slowly, moving around the room, his hand trembling as he packed the things he had there. His mind was completely and utterly blank, and he paused when he went to leave. He couldn’t bear to look at Anthony again, so he stared at the details engraved in the wooden door instead.

“I’m sorry, sir.” 

When Anthony spoke, his voice was filled with disappointment. “I know you are, but it changes nothing.” 

It wasn’t until Zayn had gotten home that he sent Liam a text. 

_I fucked up. I’m so sorry. I know you can do this without me._

Not even a minute had passed before Liam was trying to call him, once, twice, three times, and when Louis tried him after that, he let that go to voicemail, too. 

His flat was cold from not being home, the curtains shut and the whole place dark, but he hardly felt any of it as he curled up on his couch, and finally let himself cry. 


	7. VI

“Malik has been suspended until further notice. If he contacts any of you about this case, you are to ignore him and report it to me immediately. That’s all, please go back to what you were working on.”

Liam didn’t move from where he’d just sat down on the couch. Everyone on the team seemed shocked, even as they got up to move around the room, but Liam couldn’t move. His pulse was racing, his hands clammy, and Zayn’s text from last night suddenly made more sense. He’d stayed in the green room last night after he performed, hanging out with some of the other lads and going to bed almost straight after it. All Liam knew was that Thomas had been attacked in his dressing room, that he was going to make a full recovery, but he hadn’t been filled in on the specifics yet. He made a beeline to sit next to Anthony, slightly offended when he heard him sigh.

“Sir - .”

“No.” Anthony turned to look at him, and he looked exhausted, weary in a way that wasn’t just physical. “I’m not letting you sit here and tell me that we need Malik on this case.”

“We _do_ , sir. He was the one who figured out the connection between the riddles, and the stiletto. We need him.”

Anthony raised an eyebrow, clasping his hands together on the table. “He’s also the one who got so distracted watching you perform because of your personal relationship that he didn’t notice when the cameras he was supposed to be watching went black and allowed the unsub to get into Thomas’ room with no disruptions. He also tackled someone who was in your room to simply drop off supplies for you.” At Liam’s shell-shocked expression, Anthony pushed on. “You need to understand the difference, Special Agent Payne, between _us_ needing him, and _you_ needing him, because right now, they’re exceptionally different things. The only reason you are also not currently facing disciplinary actions for keeping in constant contact with him is because we need you to stay undercover.” Before Liam could argue that he was never given a direct order, Anthony was talking again. “I need you to pull your head out of your arse, put Malik completely out your mind, and do your damn job. You’re dismissed.” He went back to flipping through files in front of him, and Liam had no choice but to wander away.

He felt a bit like he was in a daze, sitting down on the other side of the room next to where Niall was turning over a large black box in his hands. Niall glanced up at him and did a double take, offering him a sympathetic head tilt when his hands were still full.

“Hey mate. How you holdin’ up?”

Liam just shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s so unlike Zayn to get distracted in something like that.”

Niall scoffed, picking up a screwdriver, tongue poking through his lips. “Usually, yeah, but you’re both a bit all over the place now that you’ve realised you’re in love with each other.”

“What?”

“You can’t be serious,” Niall deadpanned, glancing at him quickly before he started taking the box apart, one tiny screw at a time. “Normally I’d let you both sort out your own shit, but in the space of a week, you somehow almost got Zayn killed, he almost got someone else killed _and_ tackled an innocent man for doing his job, just because he was in your dressing room. I think maybe it’s time to recognise that both of you need to realise that you love each other, it’s no different to how you’ve always been, and there’s no difference in how you’ll work together, because at the moment you’re both fucking up because you don’t understand your emotions even though they’re obvious as fuck.”

Liam bristled, sitting up straighter. “Hang on, I already know how I feel about him.”

“Then act like it. The best thing you can do now is your job, before one of you gets fired. You have to realise that for you and Zayn to work, you can keep doing what you’ve always done because the only main difference is probably the fact that you’ll actually kiss and sleep together. It’s that you both try to change things or _think_ that things will be different. That’s how you’ve fucked up.”

Liam knew it made sense. He could accept that both him and Zayn had fucked up, that they’d made poor decisions during this case because they’d been struggling in their own world, but it felt _different_ now, like they should’ve been stronger because of it instead of letting it guide them. It was something they could work on, together and separately, and though they both had a lot to prove from here, Liam was ready for it.

“Alright,” Anthony stood, gesturing for everyone to gather around as he moved to the centre of the room. “I believe we’re looking for a woman. Between the stiletto, the high heel sounds in the church, the nail polish, and the cheating factor, I believe it’s a woman who’s also been cheated on that’s seeking revenge. We’re trying to find any information on if Thomas has ever cheated on anyone before. Kirby, Neal, I want you both to go to the hospital and ask him directly. It’s essential that we find out.”

“Sir, I don’t think we should rule out all men,” Liam explained, frustration building at the narrow minded thought process. He knew it made sense, that it was a logical theory, but he needed to get his point across. “Men also wear high heels and nail polish, like Harry.”

Anthony just raised his eyebrows, a consistent expression of his that’d never annoyed Liam so much until now. “Alright then, maybe we should look into Harry, too.”

Liam froze. “Wait, that’s not what I meant.”

“It is though, isn’t it? You’re trying to point out that a man could still be the unsub, and you’re right. I want you to get his guard down and ask him the right questions so we can either rule him out or bring him in for questioning.”

“No,” Liam blurted out, shaking his head. “Harry is the sweetest guy I know, he’s not capable of it.”

“I hardly think, Special Agent Payne, that you’re really in a position to question my authority right now.” The room was deathly silent, no one moving. “Do you?”

It was a lost battle. “No, sir.”

“Good. Now, I believe you have a swimsuit competition starting in the next hour. You’d best go down there.”

*****

There were people milling around the room, the fact that ten contestants had been sent home last night not seeming to make much of a difference. The noise level was still somehow the same, the room just as busy, but everyone was a bit more frantic than on previous event days. It had made it seem more real, that people had been eliminated, and it brought a layer of tension that Liam had been expecting.

He just stared straight ahead into the mirror as Michael worked on his hair, slicking it back today instead of letting it fall over his forehead. Normally, Harry giggling next to him would make him smile, boost his mood and let him slip effortlessly into the warm environment, but right now it made him feel sick. It didn’t help that the colour of Harry’s nails was a blood red today.

He’d tried to call Zayn again, left him a frantic voicemail about Harry and to check in, but he still hadn’t heard anything back. Zayn usually liked to be left alone to wallow when he messed up, but this was exceptionally bad; he’d never been suspended before, and neither of them had ever comprehended _how_ it would happen. Normally, Liam would just barge over there and hold him until he’d cried himself out, but right now he couldn’t even do that.

“Haz, you look like a mermaid,” Louis said happily, smacking a kiss to the top of his head while Alex batted him away with a grin. “My little siren.”

Michael snorted, spraying hairspray over Liam’s hair. “Sirens and mermaids are very different things, you know.”

“I stand by what I said,” Louis shot back, and then he was crouching down next to Liam, expression of a concerned parent, a hand on his knee. “Are you alright?”

Liam couldn’t tell him what he really wanted to, that Harry was basically a suspect now, so he just tried to smile and went with the next truth, keeping his voice as low as possible. “Just Zayn stuff.”

Louis patted his knee, a sympathetic look on his face. “I’m sorry, mate. Honestly, I am.” Then Harry made an awful joke about a carrot, and Louis was turning to look at him. “You do talk some shit, don’t you, love?”

“How cute,” Alex laughed, swiping a soft green over Harry’s eyelids. “Perfect couple, you two. Oh, I love your nails today, Harry.”

“Thanks!” Harry’s dimples popped, and he twitched when Louis poked at one, causing Alex to accidentally jab him in the cheek with the brush. “It was in my little welcome bag, the Maybelline one!”

Alex was frowning at Louis for messing up his work before he took to Harry’s face with a tissue. “It’s always that shade because it’s Simon’s favourite. The amount of people that wear it on days when he’s coming in, I swear.”

“Like you’re much better,” Michael drawled, winking at Liam in the mirror. It was enough to get a small smile out of him. “He’s the worst for it, I swear. Always trying to impress. Alright Will, you’re all done! Once Harry’s done, we’ll do a switch. You’re our last two for the day. It’s not often people put a lot of effort into hair and makeup on the swim days.”

It’d been the day Liam had been dreading the most, having to get up in the _scrap_ of material Louis had already shown him. He’d insisted it was a Speedo, but Liam was having doubts, and then Louis had mentioned oil and Liam had wanted to throw himself into a pit of lions.

“What are you wearing, Will?” Harry asked, waiting as Alex grabbed something for his lips.

Liam glared at Louis in the mirror. “The tiniest Speedo in existence. I hate showing off my body, so I’m not keen on it.”

“I know, but it’s only for a little bit, okay?” Louis dropped a hand on Liam’s shoulder and squeezed. “I know you’re self-conscious, but your body? So impressive, mate. Honestly.”

Harry was thanking Alex and standing, looking closely at his makeup in the mirror. He was all blues and greens, his eyes popping and lips soft. He really was exceptionally pretty. “He’s right, Will. You’re going to look amazing, I can just tell. You always do,” Harry added, smiling at him in the mirror.

It just showed Liam even more that Harry couldn’t be the unsub. It wasn’t that serial killers weren’t good liars, or that they didn’t hide well. It was that there was absolutely no denying the genuine way Harry spoke. Liam had seen the worst of humanity, had spent years training to pick out the right people, and Harry didn’t deserve what Liam knew was coming. He deserved trust and respect, and secretly questioning him was only going to end in disaster.

Just as Liam was settling into Alex’s chair, his phone vibrated with a message, and he pulled it out of his pocket so quickly he nearly flung it across the room.

“Waiting on a message?” Alex shot him an amused look in the mirror while he grabbed his makeup.

Liam just laughed as he thumbed open the message. “Yeah, you could say that.”

_I miss you. Wish you could be here._

Fuck. Liam wanted to be there, even if it was only for a second, just enough to show Zayn how everything Liam did was for him, that everything Liam _was_ belonged to Zayn, too.

All he could do was text back, though.

**I wish I could be too. Miss you like crazy. Are you okay?**

“Girlfriend?” Alex had moved around to start on his makeup, so Liam closed his eyes and slipped his phone back in his pocket.

“Boyfriend, actually.”

Michael let out a surprised sound where he was braiding Harry’s hair. “Sorry. I thought you were straight, sorry.”

Liam snorted, apologising to Alex when it made him grumble. Images of Zayn flashed through his mind, panting and writhing, moaning Liam’s name, and he had to shift in his chair.

“Definitely not straight.”

It felt like no time at all before Louis was pulling him back to his dressing room and shoving him behind a screen to change. Holding the swimwear in his hand just made it seem even smaller, but it was fine. 

He could do this. 

He took a deep breath and quickly got undressed, pulling the Speedo up and over his legs and letting it snap into place. He adjusted himself, sighing when it rode up a little at the back, and stepped nervously out into the room. 

Louis’ eyes bulged. “Liam. I know you hate them, but you look _so good,_ seriously. With your chest and your abs and your thighs and just,” he flailed a hand at him, and Liam smiled shyly. “Here, let me just put some hairspray on your butt to stop them riding up. Can I touch you?”

Always asking. Liam just nodded. He appreciated the gesture more than he could really say. Louis’ hands were cold where he grabbed the material, pulling it away slightly from his skin. They snapped back into place after Louis had sprayed, and nimble fingers tugged them into the right place. He moved back around to look at Liam front on, looking him up and down with a hesitant expression. 

“I’m not sure how to ask this without being completely inappropriate, but,” Louis groaned, hiding his face in his hands, “did you stuff a sock down there?” 

Liam was confused for all of three seconds until it hit him what Louis was actually saying, and he felt his cheeks flame. “Oh my God Louis, _no.”_

Louis was trying to stifle his giggles in his hand, but it wasn’t working. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but honestly! Zayn’s a lucky man.” 

“Shut up, I swear,” Liam laughed, his cheeks still burning. “I’m not going out there now.” 

“Yes you are, because once I rub this oil on you, and take a photo to send to Zayn because I promised I would, you’re going to look practically edible, babe.” 

The oil wasn’t as gross as he thought, although he still hated the premise, and Louis was clinical as he rubbed it over Liam’s skin. It was better to handle when they went backstage and Liam saw at least half the men dressed in a similar fashion. 

“Will! Check _you_ out!” Harry shouted across the room, and when everyone turned to look, a few wolf whistles got thrown his way. 

He hated it usually, the harassment that sometimes followed him, but it felt different here because they were _all_ in the same position, all needing support and reassurance. Liam waved as he laughed, doing a little pose on the way to stand with Harry, complimenting a few of the other contestants. 

“Haz you look amazing, I love your skirt.” 

Harry really did, wearing a floaty little wrap around over a pair of briefs. His nails were somehow green now, and it made Liam breathe a little easier. Louis ducked in between them to give Harry a kiss before he clapped Liam on the back, wished him luck, and vanished to watch from the side stage. 

Liam was grateful for the lights when they all walked out, the bass heavy and crowd screaming. It meant he couldn’t see anyone looking at him, and though he had to pose at the front of the stage for a moment, it was over quickly, and he could focus on everyone else. 

It was Harry who stole the show, as he deserved to, and when Louis only threw a towel at him and lunged at Harry as they made their way offstage, Liam didn’t feel bad about it at all. 

He had three messages and a missed call from Zayn when he was dressed again, when the oil wasn’t slicking up his skin, so he waved goodbye to the boys and went upstairs. Zayn answered on the third ring. 

_“I can’t believe I had to see what you looked like from Louis, of all people. Couldn’t find it in your heart to take a mirror selfie for me?”_

Liam hadn’t realised how worried he’d been until the sound of Zayn’s teasing drawl came bursting through the phone immediately. He laughed, pushing open the door and throwing the key on the desk. 

“You can see the real thing as soon as this is over.” 

_“Will you be covered in oil though?”_

Liam hummed, kicking off his shoes and sitting on his bed. “Doubtful.”

There was a heavy sigh, and Liam’s grin widened. _“What’s the point, then? How’d you go?”_

They talked for a little bit more about the event, Liam explaining how he’d felt self conscious the entire time, uncomfortable under the bright lights and so much scrutiny until Liam couldn’t avoid the problem any longer. “How are you feeling?” 

A beat of silence. _“I feel okay. I hate that I can’t help, and I’m so angry at myself for what I did, but I know it’s my fuck up. I deserved the suspension, and I know you agree.”_ Liam didn’t say anything. _“It’s alright. I want you to agree, Li, because then it helps me believe we can have both sides of this relationship, our work and our personal.”_

“I’ll always stand up for you and protect you,” Liam responded immediately, but Zayn just laughed softly. 

_“I know babe, but only when I deserve it.”_

“I wish you were on the case. I feel like we can’t do it without you.” Liam paused when he heard a sound at the door, and Harry’s voice drifted through. “Harry isn’t guilty.”

Zayn scoffed. _“You don’t have to tell me that. Doesn’t seem like he has a bad bone in his body. I think it’s bullshit.”_

Liam grinned, trying to hide it from his voice. “I wasn’t sure if you liked him.”

 _“I didn’t,”_ Zayn said simply, _“but then I realised that you were already mine.”_

Harry slipped inside, waving when he noticed Liam on the phone and going into the bathroom. He waved back, distracted though. “Always have been. Harry’s here, I should go.” 

_“Alright. I’ll talk to you later, okay? It’ll be alright with Harry. Are they making you wear a wire?”_

“Yeah, tonight.”

_“Let me know how you go in the morning. Love you.”_

They’d said it a million times before, and even though they hadn’t _really_ said it this time, it still held more weight, the only thing keeping Liam’s feet firmly on the ground. “Love you too.”

Harry wandered back out just as Liam hung up, sitting down opposite him on his own bed. “Zayn?”

“Yeah, he couldn’t be here today, so he called instead.”

Harry just smirked. “I bet he’s kicking himself.” 

“Oh I’m sure he’s fine,” Liam drawled, putting his phone on the bedside table. “Apparently Louis sent him plenty of photos.” 

Harry laughed, pulling his phone out and tapping on it. “Hey, we don’t have any events until tomorrow night, do you wanna go out for drinks with some of the other guys? We’re gonna celebrate getting through another round.”

There’d been two cuts so far, both times filling Liam with a sense of dread that he hadn’t done enough, hadn’t been good enough to pull through. The case rested on him making it through to the final round, needing to stay in the competition for as long as possible, and both times his name had been called, the joy on his face on stage hadn’t been put on. 

Liam hesitated. He needed to talk to Harry today, find out any information, and as much as he didn’t want to do it, it would at least get Anthony off his back. It was an awful thought, but maybe if Harry was slightly tipsy, it’d be easier for him to trust Liam. He hated himself the moment he thought it, but he reminded himself that this was his _job._

And he had to prove he could still do it. 

“Yeah, sounds perfect to be honest, I’ve been needing to relax a bit.” 

The sharp grin on Harry’s face should’ve warned him that maybe, this wouldn’t quite be what he was expecting. “Good. I’ve found a great place, and if I were you, I’d wear clothes that you don’t mind getting dirty.” 

*****

While Niall had been at headquarters, he’d managed to track down the smallest inner ears that Liam had ever seen, small enough that when he’d put them in before he left with the lads, he could see straight away that it was almost impossible to notice them. He was also wearing a necklace with a microphone in it, one that Niall kept complaining about because of the sound it made when it rubbed on his shirt, but he wasn’t wearing anything fancy enough for a tie clip or cufflink to take its place. 

He’d tried three different outfits, each one ending with Harry telling him he needed to be more casual, so now he was headed to a bar wearing a black tank and denim shorts cuffed above his knee, an oldish pair of black volleys on his feet that he’d had to borrow from Kyle. 

It didn’t even matter where they were going, because the lads were already skipping and laughing, dancing down the street and shimmying at strangers, and it was strangely infectious. Liam felt a hand on his bicep, sliding around so they were linking arms, and when he looked down, Canaan was walking next to him with a wide grin. 

“Hi! Did you ever think you’d make it this far in the competition? I’m so excited!”

There were only 10 of them left now, and while Liam had thought maybe it would make everyone more competitive, it’d seemed to bring them closer together. 

“I can honestly say I didn’t,” Liam laughed, slowing his walk so Canaan could keep up. “I’m glad we’re going out, though. I need a break.” 

Canaan murmured his agreement as they watched Harry stop up ahead. “Ugh, same. I haven’t had a drink in _weeks_ to get ready. I can only have a couple though!” 

Famous last words, Liam thought as they strolled into the club Harry had found. 

He’d been right. Two hours later Canaan had definitely had more than a couple. He was currently attempting to twerk on a platform with Kyle, who had somehow lost his shirt and was glowing rainbow under the dim lights. 

It was glow night apparently, and Liam had been covered in reds, blues, greens, and yellows from the second he’d walked in until he’d started to glow in the dark. A couple of the straight guys had never been to a gay bar before, and Liam had been slightly concerned, but he could see them out on the dance floor now, knocking back shots and dancing in the middle of a group with men cheering them on. 

He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d known he was going to do the assignment; maybe a toxic culture and constant jabs, body shaming and bitchiness. As he sat at a table up on the balcony with Harry, a number of drinks in and sharing a bowl of fries at 11:30pm, he realised it was nothing like that at all. 

They were supportive, kind, encouraging people who just wanted to make the world a better place. It was a cliché, and an obvious one, but it didn’t make it less true. 

_“Payno, we really need you to start to question him now. The team’s all here back at headquarters, and they can’t stick around all night.”_

He startled at Niall’s voice in his ear. He’d been having such a good time that he’d forgotten they were being listened to, that he had something he actually needed to do. Each question needed to be well thought out, not intrusive or prying. 

“So Haz, ever done anything illegal?” He didn’t need Niall’s voice groaning in his ear to realise it was the opposite of what he’d been trying for, but it did drive the point home. 

Harry just looked thoughtful though, chewing on a handful of fries. _Please say nothing, please say nothing_. “There was something, but it was years ago. I never talk about it, but it hits me hard every time I think about it.” He frowned, swirling the straw in his drink. 

“What was it?” Liam asked, aiming for soft but needing to yell above the music. It was probably nothing, just a bit of shoplifting as a teen or maybe underage drinking. 

“I cheated in a competition.” Oh. Better than anything Liam had come up with. “It was when I was five and we had a puzzle competition at school. I’d figured out how to solve the most common puzzles and riddles the night before just in case, so I already knew the answers.” Harry looked miserable, but Liam’s heart just grew for him. It was nothing, a child not really understanding the rules, but Harry treated it like a grave mistake. 

Liam laughed, relieved, and took a swig of his cocktail. “Harry, that’s not illegal, and also very wholesome that you think it’s such a bad thing when you probably just loved puzzles.”

“I do! I love puzzles and riddles,” Harry sighed, taking a sip and looking around the room happily. 

_“Liam, Anth wants you to push the riddle thing. Find out just how much.”_

He swallowed, looking down at a groove in the table. “Have you always loved that kinda stuff?” 

Harry’s eyes lit up, and Liam felt like an arsehole. “Yeah, ever since I was a kid. I’ve just always loved the thrill that comes with figuring something out, you know? Sorry, that probably sounds stupid,” Harry laughed, but Liam just tried to grin at him. “I used to make up riddles when I was younger, but as I got older they kept getting more cryptic and confusing until my family refused to try to solve them anymore. I still write them, sometimes. Just for fun. I used to want to be a writer, when I first started reading Shakespeare when I was younger. Didn’t realise it doesn’t quite work like that.” 

Fuck. He just _knew_ it wasn’t Harry. He didn’t fit the profile at the core of who he was. 

_“Anth needs to know if he lives alone.”_

There was no smooth way to ask the question, so he just came out with it, heart sinking when Harry nodded. 

“I used to hate it, especially when I’d just left home and started interning at the pageant, but I can’t imagine living with anyone else now,” Harry paused, the blush that rose to his cheeks visible even through the dark. “Except for maybe Louis someday.” 

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? You know that so soon?” 

Harry shrugged, looking over at the sea of people. “When you know, you know. How long have you and Zayn been together?” 

“About eight years.” 

“That’s a long time!” Harry looked impressed. “You must’ve been young when you got together, then.” 

Liam smiled down at his drink. “Yeah, about 18, 19. He’s the love of my life.” 

_“Liam, sorry mate, but we had no idea he interned at the pageant. Can you ask him more about it?”_

Liam hadn’t meant to keep it from them, truly. He just hadn’t remembered it, too much going on to even recognise its importance. “So, going back to you interning,” Liam started, playing with a fry to avoid fidgeting hands, “you said it was for a coach, right?” 

_“That’s why it wouldn’t have come up in my searches, he wasn’t technically a pageant employee.”_

Harry just nodded, pushing his hair back from his face. “She was one of my mum’s friends and I’d always been a bit fascinated with the whole thing. She just offered it to me one day when I wasn’t sure what to do in my gap year. It goes for months! There’s so much that I didn’t realise.”

The fact that usually it was months of work made Louis’ work with them so quickly even more impressive. “Oh, you worked on the women’s pageants?”

“Yep! I loved it so much. Everything’s so organised and meticulous, and I’ve always been about pattern and routine. Just makes me feel calmer, you know?” He finished his drink with a smack of his lips. “I was really upset when I couldn’t go back the next year.”

“Why not?” Liam prodded gently, hoping it was something trivial.

Harry seemed to steel himself, taking a deep breath and pushing it out slowly, and Liam’s hopes were dashed. “I actually knew one of the men who died recently, in those awful murders?” _Fucking hell._ This could not get any worse. “I didn’t know he was married and we started sleeping together. We met when his wife Brooklyn was doing pageants, but I swear I had no idea until afterwards.”

Jesus fucking _Christ._ The person Jacob had had an affair with was _Harry._ There was no way this wasn’t going to be an absolute shitfest, and even though Liam wasn’t drunk, he _was_ tipsy, and he wasn’t ready for it. Liam could hear Niall in his ear, but it was like white noise, like everything was muffled. “’m so sorry Haz,” he managed to get out, reaching across to grab Harry’s hand. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“I loved him, you know.” Harry chewed on his bottom lip, gaze unfocused. “He broke up with me out of the blue one night, just told me he was married. I was so devastated, but then I was just _angry_. I couldn’t go back and face everyone, I felt like such a fool. Miriam tried to reassure me that no one blamed me, but the damage was done.”

“Wait,” Liam closed his eyes and held up a questioning finger. “Miriam Goldwater? The pageant coach you interned for is now one of this year’s judges?”

Harry nodded, looking out and waving at Canaan and Kyle. “She’s the best. She was a coach for years before she became a judge.” Harry’s amused gaze met his over the table. “She loves you, mum was saying. She loves Louis, too, doesn’t understand how we never ran into each other all those years ago. She was telling me the other day that she’d recommended him for an important job recently, that he’d been fucked over by Simon and she just wanted to help.”

Liam had too many questions, only a slight moment of relief in finally knowing how Louis had landed the job. Did Miriam know who he was, then? Why was Miriam asked to recommend someone? He couldn’t ask Niall any of it without alerting Harry to any part of it though, and Harry continued talking.

“I’d always wanted to compete in the pageant, but I just never really found the time. Miriam used to bring me to them though when she started judging about five years ago. I used to love just being backstage and helping,” Harry sighed, a wistful look on his face. “I’d been surrounded by it for so long that when Zack pulled out, Miriam begged me to fill in because I didn’t need the training. It was the perfect time.”

_“Liam, you need to get him out of there. Anthony and the team are already on the move, and it’ll only take them about 20 minutes with traffic. They’re sure it’s him, you need to MOVE, Liam.”_

Panic and adrenaline shot through him in equal measures, but he calmly downed his drink and stood, stumbling slightly, the downside of sitting down for too long while you’re drinking; you have no idea how drunk you really are. “I was thinking I might go home, I’ve had a bit too much.”

Harry stood immediately, just like Liam knew he would. “I’ll come! Need to make sure you get home safe,” Harry explained, easily linking arms with Liam and leading them outside, making sure he’d said goodbye to all the boys on the way out.

Liam had no idea how to fix this. He knew Harry, had gotten to know him over hot chocolate and makeup sessions, had helped him paint his nails one day for fun. He _knew_ it wasn’t him, that this was the wrong call, but he was in no state of mind to try and stop Anthony. He tried to convince Harry to stay in Louis’ room as they wandered back to the hotel, but Harry just scoffed, saying there was no way he was leaving Liam when he was drunk.

It would’ve only held them back for five minutes at best, anyway. Harry went to the bathroom the second they got back to the room, leaving Liam to walk the room in circles until he felt too dizzy to keep going. He sat heavily on the bed, looking around the room as if it would give him an answer. Their keys were sitting on the bedside table, and Liam realised he hadn’t taken his, and Harry hadn’t stopped to put anything down.

The door had been slightly ajar when they came back.

Liam knew he’d locked it, a habit he’d gotten into when he was young. Someone had been _in_ here.

It happened all at once, and Liam barely had time to stand as Harry came out of the bathroom and his team burst through the door.

“Harry Cox, we need you to come with us please.” Anthony was standing at the front, his badge already out. “We have a warrant to search your possessions.”

Harry’s head whipped around to Liam and then back to Anthony. He looked terrified already, wide eyes and trembling hands. “What? I don’t understand, who are you?”

“We’re from MI5, investigating a string of serial murders, and we need you to come in for questioning.” There was no room for questions in Anthony’s tone, and Harry was too drunk to understand it all anyway.

Shawn was standing behind Anthony in the doorway, looking slightly uneasy, and Neal and Kirby were already pulling apart Harry’s bags.

“Hey,” Liam hissed, waiting until they looked up. He could hear Anthony explaining more to Harry, but it was useless with the state he was in. “Don’t be arseholes, for fuck’s sake.”

Harry was stepping back from Anthony now, and it felt like Liam’s chest had been squeezed when he saw the tears welling in his eyes. “I didn’t do anything, I swear! I don’t understand, please.”

Liam was one second away from getting up to try and help when he heard a gasp, and Kirby stood up, holding a knife that she’d just pulled from Harry’s bag. He watched the colour drain from Harry’s face, was sure his looked the same, and then Anthony was grabbing his handcuffs and turning Harry around, reading him his rights as Harry started to cry.

“Sir he’s drunk, for fuck’s sake!” Liam jumped up and the look Anthony sent him could’ve killed, but he just kept reading Harry his rights as Kirby slid the knife into an evidence bag. “God, can you just stop for a second?”

“Will.” Harry was crying, tears running down his face, and Liam had no idea what to do. “Will, I’m scared, I didn’t do it, I _didn’t_ , _please.”_

And then Neal, in a slip of the brain, said the one thing that could’ve made it worse. “Who’s Will? Liam, get out of the way, yeah?”

The look of absolute shock on Harry’s face was awful, but it was the harsh look of betrayal afterwards that hit hardest when Shawn led Harry out of the room, arms cuffed behind his back as Neal and Kirby left with them. It was just Liam and Anthony now, and apparently drunk Liam had more courage than he thought.

“He’s so drunk! He has absolutely no idea what just happened, or why he’s even being taken in! I know it’s not him sir, please listen to me.”

Anthony just stared at him with a raging fury in his eyes. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation again. You’re normally the best at this, Payne!” Anthony shouted, arms moving as Liam tried to keep up. “You’ve done much longer and more intense assignments and you’ve never lost yourself so much. You cannot keep letting your emotions cloud your judgement. Whether he was your friend or not, he’s killed four people - .”

“You have no idea if he killed those people!” Liam laughed, slightly hysterical. “You’re going off the profile!”

“And the fact that we just found a _knife_ in this bag, Payne,” Anthony hit back. “He’ll be interviewed and processed fairly, but the evidence is already - .”

“Our door was open when we got back, _anyone_ could’ve put that there!”

“ _Stop,”_ Anthony’s voice was almost thunderous, and they were lucky that everyone was still at the bar, “interrupting me. We’ll continue this conversation at headquarters. Sober up and find a way down there and figure out where this damn attitude came from on the way.”

The silence was deafening when Anthony shut the door behind him, leaving Liam to sink down on the bed. He’d hardly even settled when the door burst open again and Louis barged in.

“Liam, what the fuck? I just came to see Harry because he said you were coming back here, and I saw him in handcuffs with the team?” Louis rushed over, getting on his knees in front of Liam with pleading eyes. “I don’t understand, please, what happened, help me understand.”

They stared at each in silence for a minute before Liam spoke, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry, Louis. He didn’t do it, I know. I’m sure he didn’t. I’ll fix it.” 


	8. VII

It’d been less than 48 hours since he’d been suspended. In that time, Zayn had cried, screamed, thrown a plate, cooked three different curries, and thought about the case. He never thought that he’d be here, thought that he was good enough at his job that this would never be something that he’d have to deal with, but now there was a permanent mark on his record, for everyone to see for the rest of his career.

He’d told Liam that he knew he deserved it, and he’d been telling the truth; there was no denying that the attack on Thomas was largely his fault. Anthony had been right. Zayn had been letting his emotions make his decisions for the entire case, and it wasn’t a realisation that he was happy with. 

There were no regrets though when it came to Liam. They should’ve waited, should’ve figured themselves out properly first, but it’d been a continuous stream of problems that’d made everything come at them at lightning speed. 

The way he felt about Liam in terms of their careers hadn’t changed at all, which was why when Zayn woke up to dozens of text messages, he hardly managed to pull a shirt on before he was ducking out the door.

And also why he was breaking another direct order from Anthony and sneaking into headquarters. 

If he got caught, it was only going to cause an infinite amount of problems, not just for him but also for Liam. Details of the case shouldn't have been given to him at all, but when he’d read Liam’s panicked texts that Harry had been arrested, a man that Zayn just knew wasn’t the right one, he’d felt like he had no choice. 

There was a choice, he supposed, but it’d never been a question which one he would pick.

He seemed to have an advantage that he hadn’t considered; the very few people he’d run into since he’d entered the building didn’t seem to know that he’d been suspended. He’d worked at MI5 for long enough that he knew the back hallways and passages around the building, and for some reason his swipe card still worked. 

If Anthony hadn’t told anyone, or at least only the higher ups who usually locked themselves in their offices, then he might get out of this okay.

As long as Anthony didn’t happen to look at any security footage again. He sent Liam a text as he got closer to the interview rooms when he realised that Liam had no idea he was coming. 

_Which room is Harry in? Are you there?_

**17, Louis and I are both there. Why?**

He turned the corner, ducking into a doorway to let a few people past, and then snuck through the next door to where he knew Liam and Louis would be. 

The first thing he noticed when he walked in was Harry, through the one way glass, sitting at the metal table with his head in his hands. His leg was jiggling, his face red and puffy. He was in there on his own, wouldn’t even know that Liam and Louis were just on the other side. 

The second thing was that it was _just_ Liam and Louis, no one else. Louis was just staring at Harry through the glass, desperation and determination splashed across his face in equal measures. Liam was sitting in a chair against the window, eyes closed and waiting, shoulders slumped in defeat. Neither of them seemed to notice Zayn had arrived at all, so he cleared his throat, snapping them both to attention. 

Liam was out of the chair so quickly that it almost toppled over, rushing over to Zayn and sliding his arms around his waist. Zayn threw his arms around his neck, so tight he thought Liam might pull back, but then the arms around his waist tightened, and Liam buried his face in Zayn’s neck.

They clung to each other as Zayn murmured in Liam’s ear, telling him it’d be okay and that everything was going to work out. He didn’t know if he believed his own words, but that didn’t matter when Liam relaxed into him, his hands running slowly over his back, and pressed a lingering kiss to Zayn’s neck. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Liam mumbled, sliding his hands up to cup Zayn’s face. “Does Anthony know you’re here?” 

Zayn hesitantly shook his head, reaching up to grab Liam’s wrists just to feel him. “To be fair though, I don’t think he’d be surprised.” 

Liam just exhaled sharply through his nose, a disbelieving smile on his face. When Zayn pushed forward to kiss him, nothing more than a chaste brush of lips, Liam pulled him closer to deepen it until Zayn was sighing into his mouth. 

When Zayn pulled back, he frowned at the bags under Liam’s eyes, the heaviness of his eyelids. He looked exhausted, must’ve stayed up all night, and Zayn loved him _so much._

“When do you have to go back?” Zayn asked quietly, his fingers carding through Liam’s hair until his eyes drifted shut. 

“We’ve got finals tonight.” Liam pushed into the touch as his eyes fluttered open again. “I know Harry wouldn’t do it, Zayn. It’s not just because we’re friends, it’s just that I know him well enough to see his qualities underneath that make him the wrong person for this. Anthony won’t listen to me at all, though.” 

Zayn glanced at Louis, but he hadn’t moved, was still staring at Harry through the glass. “How exactly does Harry fit the profile?” 

Liam sighed, letting his arms fall from around Zayn and moving to join Louis at the window. “Lives alone. Divorced parents. Loves riddles and puzzles. He’s incredibly organised, loves Shakespeare, which they connected back to the church.” Liam ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. “He’s had access to the pageant for years through Miriam, and he had an affair with one of the victims. He wears stilettos and nail polish, and he doesn’t have an alibi for any of the murders because he lives alone. His Spotify has most of the songs from the playlist, and they found a knife in his bag when they arrested him.” 

Zayn winced. Even he had to admit that it didn’t look good. “Looking at it objectively, why do you think he didn’t do it?”

It was like Liam had been waiting for the question. “He hates violence, and I can tell he’s not lying. He’s so genuine in the way he speaks and he has an obvious tell with his rings, but he hasn’t used it once. Regardless of the fact he lives alone, he’s anything but a loner, always surrounded by people, and he’s still on great terms with both of his parents, and his stepdad.” Harry had started to cry through the glass, and Liam shook his head. “I know dozens of people who love puzzles and Shakespeare, and the connection with the church is razor thin. Niall has logs of Harry’s Netflix activity from the moments of abductions, and I thought he could’ve just left it running, but he’d been watching shows we’d just been talking about in detail.”

“He would’ve been performing when Thomas was attacked, wouldn’t he?” 

“He hadn’t performed yet, but it seems unlikely he’d risk getting blood on his costume, even if the plan wasn’t to murder him,” Liam said quietly, and Zayn was aware of Louis’ increasingly frequent fixes to his fringe. Liam kept going, though. “The songs from the playlist are a weird combination together, but Harry having them individually isn’t that weird because the songs are relatively well known. I still think the stilettos are a red herring, and there are so many people even just within the pageant that wear nail polish.”

Zayn chewed on his thumb nail as he listened. Harry _didn’t_ fit the profile, although he had experienced everything Liam had spoken about, it seemed to have impacted him in positive ways rather than negative, and made him a kind hearted person with no history of violent behaviour. “Have you considered the knife?”

“They’re still running tests on it,” Liam explained, blindly reaching a hand out to settle on the small of Zayn’s back. 

“You think it was planted?” 

Liam shrugged. “I think it’s definitely possible, although the fact that they must’ve known we were looking at Harry as a suspect tells us that we really need to be careful. He just doesn’t fit the profile in terms of his morals and ethics, and the way he treats people every day. I know it’s not him. It’s all just circumstantial.” He looked down at the floor, lips down turned. “Neal accidentally outed me as an undercover agent when they were arresting him. He looked so betrayed, Zayn.”

Zayn had almost forgotten that Louis was there until he spoke.

“How much longer does he have to sit there until someone interviews him? Is it always like this?” Louis frowned, but just as he said it,Shawn and Neal walked into the interview room, and his mouth snapped shut. 

Liam noted with relief that were the best people to interview Harry, could be tough when they needed to be but were undeniably fair and logical. They sat across from Harry, passing him an uncapped bottle of water as he wiped his face, and Liam found it was difficult to see someone with so much light have it dimmed. 

Shawn spoke first, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table. _“We just have to ask you some questions, Harry.”_

“You know, you’re really not supposed to be here,” Zayn remarked dryly, glancing at Louis.

Louis didn’t even look at him though, shooting back with faux cheerfulness in his voice. “You’re suspended, so neither are you.” 

Zayn paused, ignoring Liam’s snort of laughter. “Well. Touché.” He stepped around Liam to pull Louis into a sidearm hug, kissing his temple. “He’ll be okay.” Louis didn’t respond, just pushed himself against Zayn’s side, and kept watching. 

The interview was being handled exceptionally well, and Zayn made a note to mention to Shawn and Neal later how well they’d done. That thought flew out of his head though when he remembered that he couldn’t, wasn’t supposed to be here at all. The interview revealed nothing that he hadn’t been expecting, though. 

Harry admitted openly to sleeping with Jacob and said he didn’t know the others, that he had no idea how the knife had gotten into his room. Zayn had heard dozens of people lie about that very thing, but Harry’s face didn’t twitch and he kept eye contact with Shawn, only twisting his rings under the table in a sign that was obviously just nerves at being in a stressful situation. It was unlikely too that an unsub as particular as this one would just leave the actual knife in their bag, and Zayn doubted that the planted knife would even be the murder weapon, rather a replica of some kind. 

They wouldn’t willingly give up the tool that’d helped them destroy so many lives. 

_“Alright, thank you Mr. Cox. We’ll be back shortly.”_ Harry’s face twisted in confusion, but he didn’t say anything as Shawn and Neal left him on his own again. 

“It’s weird that they’re calling him Cox.” Louis shifted, stretching his arms to the ceiling. 

Zayn shot him a strange look. “What do you mean? Usually we use last names, but sometimes we slip into firsts.” 

“No,” Louis frowned. “I mean because his last name is Styles?”

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” Zayn admitted, shaking his head slightly. Everything the pageant had sent over said Harry Cox, including the police check they’d run. 

Liam looked at him too now, eyebrows furrowed. “Harry’s real name is Styles, I thought you knew that. You know, how pageant contestants have stage names? Harry’s is Harry Cox, but that’s not his real name. I thought I told you.” Liam seemed thoughtful for a moment before he flinched. “I mean, I wasn’t really in the best frame of mind when he told me.”

Zayn just blinked rapidly, trying to figure out why the _fuck_ no one had known this earlier. He closed his eyes to try and piece it all together, and little bits of information flicked through his mind like a slideshow until it clicked. 

_“We’ll need to give you a fake name.”_

_Louis cackling. “Cox is not his real last name!”_

_“William Prince is fine, better than some of the others I’ve seen over the years.”_

_“I can’t find anything on Thomas, I tried a few different combinations.” Niall’s frustration._

Liam got there at exactly the same time. “Niall couldn’t find a background on Thomas because we didn’t have his _real_ last name.” Wide eyes snapped to Zayn’s, and Zayn let himself fall into the adrenaline in his system, the frantic beat of his heart.

“We haven’t had _anyone’s_ real last name.” He kept staring at Harry as his mind kept clicking. “How is it possible that we didn’t know before now? Why don’t the files for the contestants have the right names?” 

“When the cops handed the case over, they didn’t know about the pageant yet so they only knew the real names, not that any fake names would even exist. When Simon gave us access to his database, it would’ve just had the contestant’s names of the victims as their _pageant_ names. The police checks they ran were just built into each contestant’s file, so we never saw their full names.” Liam grabbed at the files, flicking through them until he landed at Thomas’. “Niall’s team ran background checks on the victims and all the staff, but it looks like we just accepted the ones for the contestants directly from the pageant. Simon never mentioned it.” 

“Why is he always so _fucking_ useless?” Zayn hissed. “Why didn’t we double check?! Louis, why didn’t you tell us?”

Louis had the decency to look slightly ashamed. “I thought you knew! I told you that you needed a fake name and you said you were already being given one, I just assumed Simon had told you!” 

Liam groaned, hanging his head and dropping the file open on the desk. “No Louis, they gave me one because I was going undercover! What a fucking misunderstanding.”

“Liam,” Zayn grabbed at his shoulders. “What if the connection _is_ the pageant in terms of competing? We cross checked the victims names against the database, but we had the _wrong names._ ” 

Liam searched for a moment before pulling out a piece of paper, and Zayn craned his neck to look. “Syco just sent everything with the fake names, and all of the files just have a note to say ‘police check clear’. He must’ve forgotten, or hid it for some reason. We didn’t even think of it as an option. We looked at the photos too, but there weren’t any going back past five years,” Liam added, searching for his phone and grunting when he couldn’t find it. “If the timing of Harry interning there matches up, maybe Brooklyn and Jacob were _both_ competing in pageants further back than five years. There’s no photos, and we had the wrong names, Zayn. Each of the victims were only a year apart in age from the one before; could be four different pageants in four consecutive years if they were all the same age.” 

Zayn stared at the file. “We never had a chance of finding them. The only thing that wouldn’t check out is Jacob. We found him in the system.” 

Louis interjected. “McIntyre is Jacob’s real last name. He never used a stage name, one of the only people I’ve known that didn’t.” 

“Why didn’t he come up in the pageant system check, though?” Liam frowned, trying to find his file in the stack. “I remember a Jacob M coming up because we thought it was weird, the only one with just an initial.”

“Because when he died, someone altered it.” Zayn felt like he was vibrating. “They knew they didn’t have to worry about the other names, because they’d made sure we had the wrong information, but they knew Jacob’s would come up.”

He was trying to keep up with his own thoughts, but everything was running a mile a minute.

“Simon.” Liam gaped at him, and Zayn felt something akin to vindication. “It’s been Simon the whole time. We have to go see Niall.”

They may as well have ran there, they were walking so quickly. Zayn needed to stay as hidden as possible though, so he walked behind Louis and Liam, head down and hands in his pockets. Niall was eating his lunch when they got there, but he immediately put it down when he saw Zayn.

“Malik! What are you doing here?”

Zayn just barrelled forward. “I know I’m not supposed to be here, but we’ve had the wrong names for all of the contestants. They use stage names, Niall. Simon didn’t give you full access, we have to look through the pageant system again. Their first names should be the same, but it’ll be around 2009-2013.” 

Niall just raised his eyebrows and spun back around to his computer, cracking his fingers before he started typing, faster than Zayn thought he’d ever seen him. “I don’t have access anymore, we’ll need to get his permission again. Let me look at some of their records further back, though. I looked at their bank accounts and phone records, but I didn’t go back past five years when nothing was out of the ordinary. It seemed unnecessary, gimme a minute.”

Leaving Niall to do his research, Zayn turned to Liam. “I’m not sure how Thomas fits into all of this though.” 

“I was just thinking about that,” Liam answered quickly, sitting up on an empty space on Niall’s desk. “What made you think that it was Thomas?” 

“I thought the riddle matched up to some of the aspects of his life, but I might’ve just been looking for the connection rather than it already existing.” Zayn gestured for Louis to take the spare seat, settling back on the desk next to Liam. “When I think about it though, it never made sense that they didn’t kill him, or at least abduct him. It seemed like a message, more than anything else. There wasn’t even a riddle there.” 

Liam made a soft noise of agreement, interlacing their fingers on the desk. “Simon was being given updates the whole time. We were feeding him the information. If he knew you thought the unsub was going after Thomas, he easily could’ve just done it so we knew he was listening. He had access to switch the cameras off too, he’s allowed anywhere backstage.” 

“He also wired all four victims over $150,000 around the same date, just over four different years,” Niall cut in, turning his screen so they could see. “It’s from Syco’s holding account, but I can see on the system that it was Simon who authorised the payment. The phone records are telling, too. All of the victims had constant phone calls and messages both to and from Simon leading up to and during the pageants, but they dropped off as soon as the money was sent, and _oh,”_ Niall wrinkled his nose, gagging, “they are _not_ safe for work. I need to get access to his database again, but a warrant could take a while.”

“I’ll go ask him,” Zayn said immediately. “If he’s the unsub, he’s made it clear he thinks I’m pretty, which is disturbing but I think I’d be able to talk him into it.” He turned to Liam, ignoring the disapproving look on his face. “You need to stay, though. If you’re there, I don’t think I’ll get as much out of him. I’ll have to pretend we think he’s the victim, not the unsub. He’ll think we’re too stupid to figure it out.”

Louis sighed, a disgusted look on his face. “Nice to know he was sleeping with contestants even back then.”

“Should you even be here, Louis?” Niall asked, spinning slowly in his chair. “Not that I care, although I suppose Zayn shouldn’t be here either,” he shrugged.

“That’s what I said,” Louis laughed, smaller than usual but still there.

Liam dropped a hand on Louis’ shoulder and squeezed. “I want to stay here and make sure Harry’s alright anyway.”

“Alright.” Zayn jumped off the desk and pressed a quick kiss to Liam’s lips. “Keep me updated. I’ll be back.”

*****

It felt like it’d been weeks since Zayn had been in the sterile lobby, Annie’s heels clacking down the hall back towards him. Cases often flew by and it usually seemed like there weren’t enough hours in the day, but so much had happened here that Zayn felt like it was never going to end.

“Special Agent Malik? He’s ready for you.”

The walk was familiar when he made his way down the corridor, nodding his thanks to Annie and straightening his suit jacket. It was lucky that they already knew him because he didn’t have his badge to show, or even his gun if everything somehow went to shit. He glanced at the black and white photos again that he’d seen the first time, group photos of contestants with Simon front and centre, but the gaps in the images caught his eye and made him pause. Each picture had the year at the bottom, so it just made it more obvious that the years 2009-2013 were the missing pictures. Zayn scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief; it’d been there right from the start. 

He knocked on the door gently, pushing it open when he heard Simon call out.

“Mr. Cowell? Thank you for seeing me today.” Zayn grinned at him, tilting his head in a way that made him feel slightly dirty.

“Zayn!” Simon stood, a glint in his eye that Zayn hated, and shook his hand. “Just you today?”

“Yes sir, Liam’s a bit too busy, so I guess you’ll have to just put up with me,” he laughed, keeping his smile fixed firmly on his face. “I hope that’s not a problem.”

Simon sat back down, leering at him from across his desk. “Oh, I hardly think it’ll be a problem at all, _Zayn_.”

Zayn repressed a shudder. Ew. “We have reason to believe that you’re the next target. We need your permission to access the database again, and I think it’ll really help us stop them.”

It’d been an interesting experience to see it the first time, watch as Simon’s face completely shifted to something closed off and frustrated, but seeing it a second time was just as fascinating.

“I don’t understand why you need it. You should have all the information that you need, we provided you with everything,” Simon snapped, and Zayn filed _‘short temper_ ’ away for future reference.

“We just need to make sure, sir,” Zayn said soothingly, leaning across the desk and looking up through his lashes, hating every second of it. “I’d hate for something to happen to you.”

Simon’s eyebrows jumped, and Zayn gave himself a mental high-five, but then Simon shifted. The frustration didn’t bleed out of his expression; it was more that it adapted as Simon stayed quiet, watching Zayn with calculated eyes and a growing smirk. Zayn tried to sit still under the scrutiny, could do this almost better than anyone, so he pouted slightly, just enough that he knew his lips would look good. He felt nauseous when Simon’s smirk grew. “Maybe I’ll let you have access again if I get a… _reward_ …after it.”

He had to force himself not to recoil. It was brazen, and Zayn was still a Special Agent, and maybe this had shown him more of Simon’s personality than he’d been expecting. Zayn was saved from having to respond, and distracted enough not to punch him in the face, by Alex bursting in through the office door. Guilt hit him in the pit of his stomach at the memory of Alex’s terrified face on the floor of Liam’s dressing room.

He just looked awkward at the moment though, glancing quickly between Zayn and Simon until Zayn realised how much they were leaning towards each other. He moved back with a cough.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll just,” Alex jabbed his thumb towards the hallway, “wait outside.” He hesitated in the doorway, fingers gripping onto the frame like he wanted to stay in the room. Simon raised an eyebrow though, and Alex slowly stepped back, slipping back out through the door and closing it softly. Zayn just needed to leave now.

“If you don’t let us have access,” Zayn sat back in the chair, arms folded and eyebrows raised, finished with the act now, “I can just get a warrant.” Simon’s eyes widened the tiniest of a fraction, and it was some of the only genuine emotion Zayn had ever seen on his face. “I don’t want to have to do that, of course, but we’ll need _full_ access this time.”

If Simon was surprised that he’d requested it, or even that they’d realised they hadn’t gotten it the first time, he didn’t show it. He just typed quickly, glancing up at Zayn every so often while he waited, and it was only a couple of minutes until Simon was moving back from his computer. 

“Your technical analyst will have the access now.” Simon was watching Zayn, and it was the first time he’d felt truly intimidated by him. 

He rose from his seat, brushing invisible dust from his clothes just for something to do. “Thank you. We’ll be in touch if we require anything else.” He was almost at the door when Simon spoke again. 

“Mr Malik?” Zayn paused, a thud in his chest, and turned back around, raising an eyebrow at Simon’s stare as he continued. “Where’s my reward? You know, you’re much too pretty to do the work you do.”

Zayn just smiled at him, eyes narrowed, and pushed the door open. “My looks don’t define who I am, Mr. Cowell. I think you’ll find that your reward is not having us storm in here with a warrant, and your reputation can stay intact.” He stepped into the hallway, had one last thought, and stuck his head back in. “And also? It’s Special Agent Malik to you.”

He left Simon to stew in his own thoughts, nodding at Annie as he left to head back down to the car. There was an odd combination of nerves and vindication swirling in his stomach, because while he’d gotten what he’d needed, he’d also ended up pissing Simon off, someone who already may have tried to kill him.

Win some, lose some, really.

Zayn was calling Niall before he’d even started the car. “Hey, you should have access now. He said he sent it to you while I was there.”

The tapping of the keyboard was loud as Niall was on speaker so Zayn could speed out of the parking lot. _“Ay, perfect! Thanks mate. Did you have to flirt with him?”_

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Zayn grumbled, turning at a set of traffic lights and cracking a smile when Niall laughed. “He called me pretty.”

_“Pretty? Well, he’s not wrong, is he? Alright, let me just use their first names and their dates of birth. Liam said Jacob should just be there as Jacob M, so let me get that one first.”_

Zayn waited impatiently while Niall worked his magic, and he couldn’t stop fidgeting, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove back to headquarters and prayed that they were right. If not, he had no idea where to go from here, and they needed enough to let Harry go.

 _“Well fuck,”_ Niall gasped. _“You’re right. The names and dates of birth match up to four winners from 2009 to 2013. The last names are different, but everything else matches up. Simon only gave me half this information earlier, just the surface profiles of the contestants. Fucking wanker. Why would he do that?”_

“I fucking _knew_ it!” Zayn thumped the steering wheel, trying not to speed back. “Self-preservation. He thinks we believe he’s the next victim, and he’s so narcissistic that he’d rather have all his secrets spilled now if it means he won’t be arrested or killed. Can you have a file organised for me for when I get back, please?”

_“With manners like that, definitely.”_

The second Zayn stepped into the building, Niall was handing him a manila folder stuffed with paper. “It’s all in there, and they’re letting Harry go even without all of this.”

Zayn pressed the button for the lifts, flipping through the pages quickly. “What made them decide to let Harry go? Have you given this stuff to Liam yet?”

“Not yet, I thought I’d let you tell him.” They stepped into the lift to go up to Liam and Zayn’s office. “In terms of Harry, I used his phone location to prove he was either at home or the supermarket during the times of the abductions, and the cameras in the supermarket proved it too. The knife also doesn’t match the wounds exactly, so it doesn’t seem to be connected at all. There were no fingerprints or anything, and apparently it wasn’t even really hidden in his bag, just settled right on top of all his stuff.”

“Thanks Ni.” He darted forward to kiss him on the cheek, stepping out when the doors opened. “Are you going back to your office?”

“Yeah mate, I’ll see you later!”

Zayn waved as the doors closed and practically ran to their office, ignoring a couple of people that called out to him, taking just enough notice to make sure they weren’t Anthony.

That all went out the window when he skidded into their office and interrupted Anthony mid conversation with Liam and Louis.

Ah, fuck.

He froze in the doorway, couldn’t move under the weight of Anthony’s unimpressed stare.

“Special Agent Malik, I gave you very specific instructions.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry but I think, hopefully, I’ve made it worth it.” He handed Anthony the folder, watching as his heavy gaze moved to read it, and snuck across the room to bury himself under Liam’s arm.

Their office was quiet as Anthony slowly read through the pages, and when he looked up, Zayn could see he was conflicted; impressed, but frustrated.

“I wouldn’t say that it completely makes up for it,” he said dryly, lifting his eyebrows, “but it’s a start.”

*****

It felt odd being back in Liam and Harry’s room as though nothing had even happened, back to the pageant because they still needed to keep an eye on everything from the inside. Liam had wanted to arrest Simon immediately, possibly encouraged by Zayn telling him what had happened in his office, but they hadn’t been able to track him down yet, and even Annie didn’t know where he was.

Not a good sign.

Zayn got to see the moment that Harry came back though, released after Anthony had forced them back to the hotel. He’d immediately fallen into Louis’ arms, sobbing, clutching him to his chest while Louis just kept repeating that he was never going to let him go, never leave him. With a gentle tap to Liam’s elbow, Zayn nodded at the door and they snuck out, leaving them to figure out whatever they needed to.

With Harry now knowing who Liam was, and by extension, Zayn, he imagined that Harry would need an explanation from Louis, too. That was a private conversation, something personal for them, and Zayn and Liam definitely didn’t need to be there for it. Harry would need to have a similar conversation with Liam, one that rebuilt their trust, but there was time for that later. For now, they went back to the suite, and Zayn hadn’t expected Niall to be there.

“Hey man, what are you doing back here?”

“The rest of the team’s either back at headquarters or looking for Simon, and there’s something a bit weird I wanted to talk to you about,” Niall frowned, pulling something up on his screen. “Simon’s still been sending large amounts of money to contestants each year, so it’s safe to say it’s the continuing pattern that Louis told us about ages ago, but the weird part is the other transactions to businesses that I can’t find any information on.”

Zayn peered over his shoulder. There were consistent amounts of $50,000 and over leaving his account every month or so, and then returns of over $100,000 a few days later. “Investments?”

“I thought that, but you wouldn’t get a return that quickly. The ones coming back within days have the same reference number, so they have to be part of the same transaction and they can’t be returns on earlier investments. I’ll keep looking into it, but I can’t think of what else it might be.”

“Gambling.” Liam put a hand on Zayn’s hip and stepped forward to see. “That would give him the quick return.”

Zayn’s mouth twitched in contempt. “But on what? It’s a lot of money, and he never seems to lose.”

“I’ll keep trying to see what I can find,” Niall frowned, scrolling down the page. “I’ll let you know if I find anything, but there was a really big one each year just before the pageants, including this year, and there’s been similar sized payments more regularly within the last couple of months.”

“Do you think Simon’s the type of person to actually do his own dirty work?” Liam asked, stepping away to lean against a chair. “Is it possible he’s paying someone to do everything for him? He only fits part of the profile, he just has more evidence against him. I can’t imagine him not being involved in it, but I can’t see him actually killing the victims. We don’t have a motive, either.”

Zayn went to chew on his thumbnail but stopped when Liam grabbed his hand and held it instead. “Maybe the men threatened to talk? Ni, can you see if there were any phone calls from the victims to Simon’s mobile or his office within the last six months?”

Niall nodded, typing for a while as different pages flashed across the screen, stopping on a highlighted line. “There was, back about two months ago from the first victim, it was to his office.”

“Can you get a copy of the call?”

“Maybe? I’ll have to see what permissions we’ve got, let me just ask Anthony.” He grabbed his phone and ducked into one of the bedrooms, closing the door behind him.

There was a calm readiness in Zayn’s body, his entire being filled with the relief of what they knew now and the fear of what they didn’t. He went easily when Liam grabbed his shirt and gently pulled him to settle between Liam’s legs. Zayn kept his arms between their chests, gnawing softly on his thumb while he tried to figure out what they were missing, and let himself just be held as Liam pressed kisses along his hairline.

Niall didn’t seem surprised to see them entangled when he returned, just sat back down and spun around to face them on his chair. “Anthony’s working on getting a warrant for all of Simon’s documents, but it might take a little bit. He wants me to wait until we have it before I grab the call because he doesn’t want any possible loopholes if we arrest Simon, legal or not.”

“Have they found him yet?” Liam rested his chin on Zayn’s head, and Zayn just moved his nose into Liam’s neck. He was tired now, coming down from the adrenaline of figuring out the information.

“No, but Anth said they went by and no one was there, but everything was untouched, which wouldn’t make sense if he thinks we’re onto him. There were documents and everything just sitting out in the open, and his computer was still on, so he hasn’t tried to cover his tracks.”

Zayn frowned faintly in confusion, startled by Louis bursting into the room.

“Oi Payno, we have to go. We have training to do, it’s finals tonight and somehow, on approximately three hours sleep and at 8:30am, we have to pretend like your team didn’t arrest my boyfriend less than 24 hours ago.” Louis was smirking though, and then Harry popped his head into the room.

“Hi!” Harry beamed, and his dimples popped. Zayn couldn’t stop the smile that echoed on his own face. “I’m Harry.”

Niall bounded across the room, always eager to meet someone new. “Hi Harry, ‘m Niall. Sorry we accidentally arrested you.”

Harry waved him off, and Zayn snorted. “Louis explained a bit of it to me and honestly, you were just doing your job.” Zayn looked at Liam in amazement, and he just shrugged as if to say _‘I know, he’s always like this’._ “But Will, oh. Um, Liam I guess? We should have a chat, if you have time before training.”

“Absolutely,” Liam said quickly, dropping his arms from Zayn’s shoulders and holding his waist. “Hey, I have to go, I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn smiled up at him, cupping the back of his head for a kiss. “I might go have a nap, can I use your room?”

“’course, babe.”

The four of them left together to drop Zayn at Liam’s room, who left him with another kiss as Zayn promised that he would be down to watch the final.

He’d only just locked the door when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and the last thought he had before a crushing pain hit him in the back of the head was _‘not again’._

*****

Zayn’s eyes fluttered, shivering at how cold the room was. The lack of noise registered first, the only sound an odd humming that he couldn’t place. His head was pounding and his arms hurt where he realised they were lifted above his head.

That position only meant one thing, and it required a completely different set of check-ins than when he woke up in a hospital. He wriggled his fingers and toes slowly, rotating his wrists and ankles; nothing broken, but there was rope around both, a cool press of metal pressed against the bare skin of his back. No shirt then, also no jeans judging by the cold against the back of his knees. He had pants on though, and the material under his feet was cool and smooth; concrete. He tugged carefully on the bonds; well done and would be difficult to get out of. All of his teeth were still there, his tongue untouched, and there was no real pain coming from anywhere else on his body aside from his head and shoulders.

A sharp pain came from his cheek then though, and he hissed, trying to stay still, the press of a blade clear when it lightly cut his skin. His eyes shot open, needing a moment to focus on the person in front of him, and when his vision cleared, his stomach dropped as he realised how wrong they’d been.

“Fuck.”

"Hi, pretty boy."


	9. XIII

Standing in his dressing room and staring at himself in the mirror, dressed in a black suit, black shirt, and black bow tie, Liam took a deep breath. He hadn’t thought that he’d care about how far he made it, that it was all just a means to an end. The only reason he had needed to win was for the case, not for anything else, not for his self-confidence or to change the world, not to impress anybody or to feel accomplished.

He still felt it though, loved his body more, appreciated the people around him more, saw the _good_ in people, in Harry and Canaan and Louis, in every person who’d helped him. Even with the case at the forefront, something so horrific and terrifying, the pageant had been a nice reminder that there was always kindness and love and acceptance.

Liam brushed his hands down his lapels, the soft velvet making him smile as Louis came up behind him in the mirror.

His grin was blinding. “You look incredible, mate.”

“Thanks Louis,” Liam replied quietly, smile still on his face as he turned around. “For everything, you know.”

Louis waved him off, but he looked incredibly pleased. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad that you actually enjoyed it.”

“More than I thought I would,” Liam laughed, sitting down carefully to put his shoes on. “Do you have to go backstage now?” At Louis’ nod, Liam continued. “Could you possibly send Harry in here? I want to chat to him before I go on.”

“’course.” Louis knelt down quickly and pulled Liam into a hug, squeezing him tight enough that he huffed out a breath. “You’ve done so well, and I’m so proud of you. Just remember everything we talked about it, and you’ve got this, okay?”

Liam hugged him back just as tightly, rocking them slightly, and it hadn’t been very long, but it was still true when he said it. “Love you.”

Louis let out a surprised noise. “Love you too, mate. I’ll see you in between each event.” He pulled away with a fond grin and left, shutting the door softly behind him.

As soon as it was closed, Liam reached behind the couch and grabbed the bag he’d left there earlier. There were a million things he needed to say to Harry, a thousand different ways to apologise, and while sometimes Liam wasn’t the best with his words, this was something he hoped Harry would love, whether he properly accepted his apology or not.

There was a knock on the door just before Harry stuck his head in, lips quirked and eyebrows raised. “You wanted to see me, Special Agent Payne?” He grinned when Liam laughed, stepping into the room and moving to sit next to Liam on the couch. 

“Please never call me that again,” Liam teased, but when Harry sent him a slightly sad smile, his stomach twisted. “Haz, I’m really sorry. I’m sorry I had to lie to you, and I’m sure you don’t trust me, but just know that I meant everything I said. I think you’re such a brilliant person. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, so selfless and just _good._ ” He glanced at him, watching as he fiddled with his rings. “I never once thought you were behind it all. I knew you didn’t do it, but I’m so sorry you had to go through that because of me.” 

Harry’s head snapped up, brows furrowed in confusion. “Liam, I don’t blame you for any of it. It’s not _your_ fault that your team arrested me, I understand. They could’ve been nicer about it,” he murmured, and Liam nodded in agreement, “but you had a job to do. The fact that there were so many coincidences is something that you couldn’t have changed, and I’m sure you did what you could.” 

“You didn’t deserve to be lied to.” 

He just laughed, though. “It wasn’t like you did it to be an arsehole. I understand the importance of a few lies for an undercover mission. You still told me about your childhood, your time in school and your family. Your name was just a tiny part of who you are, and I forgive you for having to hide behind it.” Harry’s smile had softened, and Liam cuddled into him when Harry threw an arm around him. “Besides, I got to meet Louis, so it all worked out.”

“How did you not meet him when you were interning? He commands a room,” Liam laughed, and Harry joined him, squeezing him. 

“I don’t actually know. I jokingly told him that I remembered a loud little twink, and then he tapped me in the balls.”

Liam choked on a laugh. “Sounds like Louis. So are we okay?” 

“Of course we are.” 

“Good! I have a present for you.” 

He grabbed the velvet bag from where he’d left it beside him, pressing it into Harry’s hands. The way his mouth dropped when he opened it meant he knew exactly what they were, and he looked both terrified and exhilarated. 

“I _can’t,_ Liam.” He tried to pass them back, but Liam just gently pressed against them. 

“Of course you can. You deserve to show everyone how much you shine.” 

Harry just threw his arms around Liam’s neck, another hug that Liam felt deep in his heart, and they rocked slowly back and forth. 

“Thank you,” Harry whispered right in his ear. 

Liam just smiled, hooking his chin over Harry’s shoulder. “You’re welcome.” 

*****

The formal event had been the one he’d been looking forward to the most, mainly because he got to be judged purely for wearing a nice suit instead of his everyday ones for work. 

With only ten of them in the finals, the formal event sped by, each of them walking a short catwalk and posing at the end. Liam could barely remember what he did, but Louis clapped him on the shoulder when he came off stage, so it couldn’t have been all bad. 

He was trying to quickly change into a different outfit, loose black slacks and a tight white t-shirt when he realised he hadn’t heard from Zayn. He asked Louis if he’d seen or heard from him, frowning when Louis shook his head.

“He’s probably still napping.” Louis was touching up his makeup with a sigh. “Alex did a weird job on your foundation today.” 

“It wasn’t Alex, it was a girl I’ve only seen a couple of times.” Liam huffed around a mouthful of powder, accidentally blowing it back into Louis’ face. 

Louis rolled his eyes. “That makes more sense. Alright, you’re on after Harry so if we go out now and wait in the wings, we can watch him first.” 

They weaved their way back to stand hidden at the side of the stage, and when Harry walked out with the blue batons Liam had just given him instead of his usual green ones, Liam just grinned. 

The music kicked in, loud and thumping, and Louis already seemed startled. It was a vast change from Harry’s usual kind of routine, and Liam didn’t know if he wanted to watch Harry’s routine or Louis’ reaction first. The choice was made for him though when the ends of Harry’s batons flamed and stayed lit, and the entire crowd gasped and cheered, screaming out. Liam could see how wide Harry’s smile was as he twirled and threw them in the air, spinning them in a way that was, quite frankly, terrifying but mesmerising. 

“You’re fireproof, darling,” Louis whispered, and Liam watched his face as it softened further, the blue of his fixated eyes vibrant from the flames that flew across the stage. He knew Harry couldn’t see them where they stood in the wings, but it was obvious in the confidence of his steps and in his performance that he knew Louis was watching, that he wanted to make him proud. Liam thought Louis’ face said it all.

He got a standing ovation at the end, one that was incredibly deserved, but Liam thought him and Louis were loudest of them all as they whistled and cheered. The second Harry stepped off the stage, cheeks flushed and with the biggest smile Liam had ever seen, he was hauling Louis in for a kiss that was almost too much for where they were. 

As soon as his name was called, Liam saw Louis pull away from Harry, panting, and almost wished they’d just stayed connected. “Good luck, mate. See you in about three minutes.”

It was an incredibly difficult act to follow, but Liam still sang his heart out, his voice strong and falsetto perfect enough that he had people on their feet. It felt like winning already, really, that so many people were cheering for him, loved what he was doing, and he jogged off with a big wave when he was done. It was a bit surreal, now that it was done, felt like he’d only been on stage for a minute, and there was a tinge of sadness at the thought it was over now. 

Louis stopped him immediately though, trying to take his t-shirt off in a way that didn’t ruffle his hair. 

“ _Agh_ , relax. What is it now?”

“Question time,” Louis replied instantly, tongue poking out between his lips as he wrangled Liam into another suit, a checkered gray this time. “Just remember what we talked about. Be diplomatic, show _just_ enough emotion, and pretend you have to take a second to think about your answer even if it’s one you instantly know how to respond to.” 

Liam nodded. “Right. Got it.” 

All of the contestants moved back onstage, the music that was playing jarring to Liam when he connected it to murder and blood, but he needed to concentrate. He watched as a few contestants answered standard pageantry questions with wide smiles and soft voices, and then it was Harry’s turn. 

“Harry, what is your idea of a perfect date?”

Liam felt his mouth twitch as Harry paused for a moment. What a stupid question, one that didn’t really leave room for Harry to give as much of an intelligent answer as the others had allowed for. The others had been asked about political and social issues, thought provoking questions, and Harry had been stuck with this.

But then Harry, like always, surprised him. 

“Well, it’d have to be April 25th.” The crowd all laughed, and even though Liam couldn’t see his face, he could picture the cheeky grin. “In all honesty, I don’t think I have one. I think it depends on the person and how you feel about them, but I will say that I believe the reason for asking this question is based on using someone as a romantic interest, or as someone who welcomes personal questions about their love life to project a certain image of availability and promiscuity.”

Liam pursed his lips to keep from grinning, but it slipped out anyway, wide and proud. Harry was very pretty, very well liked by the general public according to the media, had been highly sexualised throughout the competition, and he’d just shut them down in the best way he could with the only platform he’d been given. 

The crowd erupted though, and Liam ducked his head to hide his smile, but when Harry moved back in line, Liam made sure he could see it. 

“And now, William Prince!” Liam stepped forward, waving to the crowd and making sure his smile was perfect. 

“Will, what do you believe is something that society is currently lacking that would make it a better place?” 

The answer was on the tip of his tongue, but he held off for a second like Louis had told him. “Harsher punishments for members of law enforcement who abuse their power to get away with committing crimes. If a system can be cheated to the detriment of the people it’s supposed to protect, it’s only proof that the system is broken.”

Crickets. Liam was beginning to think that maybe he shouldn’t have been so honest, but then the crowd started clapping and cheering, getting louder as time went on, and Liam let out a small sigh of relief. 

It didn’t stop Louis from hitting him upside the head the moment he went offstage though, a gentle tap that he still hadn’t been expecting. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” Liam pouted, rubbing at his scalp. “I was just honest!”

Louis rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath but his small smile showed he was teasing.“Did I teach you nothing? Not always the best policy, you know. Okay, we have to get you back into your velvet suit.” They could take their time though as the judges deliberated, Louis retying Liam’s bowtie at least four times as chaos erupted around them. Louis groaned just as all of the contestants got ready to move back out again though. “Here, come closer, let me fix your hair.”

“Have you heard from Zayn?” Liam looked at Louis cross eyed as he brushed Liam’s hair back from his face. 

“I haven’t, but I’m sure Niall’s probably set him up with a live stream or something, regardless of how well that worked last time. I’m sure he’s watching from somewhere, Payno.” Liam shot him an unimpressed glare, but Louis just shooed him back on stage. “Out you go! I’ve got my fingers crossed!”

“For me, or Harry?”

“Irrelevant.”

Shaking his head with a laugh, Liam found himself walking back out for the last time, standing next to Harry with his hands clasped in front of him in the middle of the stage. Harry looked genuinely excited, and Liam realised that he didn’t want to win, not if it meant Harry couldn’t. Harry genuinely deserved it, had worked for it and been surrounded by it for years, and Liam had stumbled here purely by accident. 

“Okay, one last round of applause for our contestants! Yes, they look amazing, they’ve all done so well! Now, let’s get to it, shall we? In tenth place…”

Of course they were working backwards. One by one as their names were called, contestants stepped forward with humble smiles and waves before moving to the side, and with each one, Liam’s heart rate sped up until it felt like a hummingbird’s and it was just him and Harry. He reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand, squeezing it gently and closing his eyes. 

“In second place, our Mr. UK runner up, it’s...William Prince,” a deafening roar cut through the haze that immediately settled over Liam, enough that he needed to focus to hear, “which means Harry Cox is our Mr UK 2019!” 

He’d come _second_. Harry had _won_. Confetti rained over them, landing in Harry’s hair and settling on Liam’s suit as the crowd screamed and the judges got to their feet, but all Liam could focus on was the shocked look on Harry’s face. He laughed, throwing his head back and almost getting confetti in his mouth, and then he pulled Harry into a fierce hug, patting his back and jumping up and down. Harry still seemed too shocked to properly respond, but when Liam let him go and stepped back, he could see tears in his eyes as a sash was put on him. 

He looked so overwhelmed, but in the best way possible, and Liam thought his own chest was going to burst. He kept clapping when instead of the bouquet of red roses Liam had seen on TV and in movies, Harry was handed a single red rose, and his hands slowed and fell to his side. 

The crime scene photos swam into his mind; propped up like they were standing, wearing suits and holding a single red rose, the playlist in the background. They were being set up like _winners,_ but none of the victims _had_ won. Unless Simon had thought they had won something, somehow? Something he wanted but didn’t get? 

Liam was pulled out of his thoughts by Harry hugging him again, and then were photos being taken and people swarming the stage, Louis rushing to pull him off the stage. 

“Hey, aren’t you going to go see Harry? He _won_ , I’m so proud of him!” 

But Louis kept pulling him down the hallway to his dressing room, fixing him with a sympathetic look before shoving him through the door, staying on the outside himself, shutting the door as soon as Liam had stumbled through. Liam stared at it for a moment, confusion flowing through him, but then a voice made him turn around. 

“Liam.” It was Anthony, and he looked grim, standing in the middle of the room with his hands behind his back and his mouth set in a firm line. 

“Sir,” Liam said slowly, approaching cautiously. “Is everything okay?” Anthony looked nervous, something that was rare to see on him, and Liam’s heart stopped for just a second. He wiped his palms on his suit pants where they’d suddenly gotten sweaty, trying to prepare himself for whatever was coming. “Sir?”

“Zayn’s missing. We think he’s been taken.”

*****

It’d been 15 minutes since he’d found out Zayn was gone, 15 endless minutes of denial and anger and frustration, phone calls to Zayn’s mobile that went unanswered until Niall finally picked up and Liam realised it was in the suite, had been found on the floor of Liam and Harry’s room next to a splash of blood. 

It’d been 15 minutes, and he still couldn’t breathe.

Anthony hadn’t let him leave the dressing room while he was still in shock, had had to first calm him down from a panic attack that’d crashed into him so quickly he was lucky he’d been able to recover at all, and as they were stepping off the lift now, Liam was already taking off his jacket and pushing up his sleeves. 

He barged through the door, barely noticing when everyone jumped at the sound, and moved straight to the table with the files. His jacket went flying onto the couch as he threw it aside carelessly; he needed to concentrate so they could find Zayn, but he couldn’t _think_ , could hardly even remember any of the details of the case. Everything needed to be written out again so he could _see_ it, so he could hunt down the piece of shit who had ever thought kidnapping Zayn, _his partner,_ was a good idea. 

Niall approached him carefully as he was flinging open folders, pulling out files and scattering them over the table. “Liam, mate - .”

“ _How_ ,” God, he still couldn’t breathe, “the absolute _fuck_ ,” he tugged at his bowtie with trembling fingers, yanking at it until it came undone, “did _anyone_ manage to get out of this _fucking_ building,” he flung the tie aside with no care for where it landed, “with a fucking injured or _unconsious_ _MI5 agent?_ ” He knew he was yelling but he couldn’t help it, fear crawling up his spine in harsh jabs that felt like they were going to paralyse him any second. 

“Liam, just calm down - .”

Red flared in his vision, and he slammed his fist down on the table with a loud _bang_. “ _Don’t_ tell me to calm down, Horan. Zayn is fucking _missing,_ and we’re all just sitting around with no idea where he could _possibly_ even be,” he panted, glancing up to see Niall standing directly in front of him, expression unreadable. He slumped slightly, running out of steam as his anger morphed into fear. “I - I can’t lose him, Niall. I can’t do this, not again.” He straightened slightly, dropping his gaze to the papers he was shuffling as he lowered his voice with a shaky exhale. “We have to find him.” 

To his credit, Niall’s voice was still calm and easy. “I know mate, but we’re not going to get anywhere unless you tell us what you need. We _all_ want to find him, but I need you to talk to us.” 

There were sudden tears welling in Liam’s eyes that he blinked back, pausing where he was spreading out the contestants’ information. He took a long, deep breath, counted to five, and then pushed it out slowly, looking up to find the whole team gathering around Niall, all wearing different expressions of sadness, determination, and sympathy. 

“I can’t think properly,” he said quietly, rubbing a hand over his face. “I need to see it all written out.”

Anthony was barking orders the second he finished. “Shawn, grab that whiteboard. Neal, the markers are over in that tub. Kirby, get some thumbtacks for the pinboard.” Everyone moved on the commands, and Niall guided Liam to sit carefully in a chair, passing him a bottle of water. 

Liam drank it greedily, resting back in the chair as he finished half of the bottle and wiped his mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lose it at you.”

Niall just snorted though, sitting next to him and rubbing his shoulder. “I appreciate the apology, but it’s not necessary. I get it. I don’t know exactly what I’d do if something like that happened to Shawn, but I know I’d move fuckin’ heaven and Earth to get him back.” 

“We all want him back, Liam,” Shawn murmured as he pressed a kiss to the top of Niall’s head. “We just have to figure out how to do it, and we will.” 

Kirby nodded from the pinboard. “We’ve got this.”

“Tell us what you need, mate.” Neal was already spinning a marker in his hand, looking at him pointedly. 

They were right. They could do this, were literally trained to do this, and they just needed a plan. Liam undid his top two buttons, sighing when air hit his overheated skin, and took another swig of water. 

“Okay, so the victims,” he started as Shawn started searching through the files. “All murdered two weeks apart after being abducted and tortured, and then dumped in rich areas of town. I realised when I was on stage at the end that they were staged to look like pageant winners. They all get a single red rose, and the victims were propped up in suits with the pageant music playing in the background. The victims didn’t win though.”

Anthony frowned as he sat on Liam’s other side. “So, they won something else, then?”

“That’s what I thought, but from our research, there’s definitely nothing that they had that Simon didn’t,” Liam replied, distracted as Kirby hung up the pictures Shawn was handing her and Neal made dot points and a timeline. “Where is Simon, by the way?”

“We can’t find him.” Anthony looked troubled for a moment. “From the things Zayn said though, it didn’t look like he’d tried to cover his tracks at all. We got the warrant earlier and Niall’s had a look through his computer, and there was still some pretty damning information on there.”

Liam picked up a pen to fiddle with it, tapping it on the table. “Like what?” 

Niall rummaged through the papers and handed them to Shawn. “The gambling he was doing was on the pageants, which means he was betting on an outcome he had control over. He’s not a judge, but he influences the decision completely if he wants to. It’s also to offshore, illegal businesses, so aside from the whole murder thing, he’s got that going for him, too.” 

“He’s a real dream.” Liam rolled his eyes. “Did you end up interviewing the other people that Simon had sent money to?”

Kirby responded from where she was putting up copies of highlighted bank statements. “Neal and I went and spoke to some of them, but we couldn’t find two of them; Nicholas Ball and Alex Powell, but Alex was paid significantly less so we’re not sure if he actually had an affair.” 

Liam’s brow furrowed and he stared at her. “Alex Powell? As in, the makeup artist Alex Powell who works for the pageant?”

“The one and only. The amount he was paid seems to have just stayed the same as his wage.” She explained. “He wasn’t home though, so we assumed he’d be working at the final and we could grab him afterwards.”

“He wasn’t though.” Liam was shaking his head as he leant forward, stretching to try and find Alex’s file. “He wasn’t at the pageant, he called in sick. When did he compete?” There was a ringing in the back of his head, a constant buzz that was making him unsettled. “Niall, when did he compete? Where did he place?”

Niall was back at his computer faster than Liam could blink. “Ah, 2009. He got eliminated in the second round.”

“The same year as the first victim? He competed in the _same year_ as the first victim?” Liam repeated as the buzz got stronger, like it sometimes did just before everything made sense. “Neal, I don’t have my glasses, what does that say on your timeline? Just under Thomas getting attacked?”

Neal shot him an odd look. “It says _‘Zayn accidentally tackles Alex in Liam’s dressing room_.”

“Why is there a smiley face next to it?” Anthony sighed, hanging his head between his hands on the table, but Liam didn’t hear his defence. No one had ever told him who Zayn had attacked in his dressing room, and Alex had been fine the next day. 

“Why was Alex in my dressing room?” Liam interrupted. “Why was he there? Why did Zayn tackle him?”

“He had your schedule and I think a tub of hair gel? He said he was returning it to you, and Zayn just saw the metallic shine and thought it was a knife,” Anthony explained slowly, and Liam could see him trying to keep up. 

Liam couldn’t keep up with his own thoughts, though. “I didn’t have hair gel in my dressing room, or any kind of product apart from hairspray. They don’t _give_ us printed schedules, they just email them to the coaches.” He stood suddenly, frantically trying to piece his thoughts together. “There’s no reason for him to have been in there. When was the last time someone saw him? Do we know?”

“Um, we have no way to know but Zayn said he interrupted their meeting at Simon’s office.”

The buzzing grew, his mind clicked, and suddenly everything came flooding in like a dam had broken. 

_“...I love your nails today, Harry…it’s his favourite shade”_

_“...he’s the worst for it, I swear…wearing it on days Simon will be in...”_

_“...oh I love the playlists they have here, so motivating…”_

_“...said he was returning it to you…”_

_“...he didn’t win…”_

_“...contestants who were paid by Simon…”_

_“...like they’d won something that he hadn’t…”_

_“...sick tonight, you’ll have someone else doing your makeup…”_

_“...interrupted a meeting…”_

_“...we can’t find Simon…”_

_“...Zayn’s missing…”_

Everything came back into focus with a _click._

“It’s Alex,” Liam whispered, louder again when he realised. “It’s _Alex_ , it’s fucking _Alex_. Niall, give me everything you can find on him.” He turned to Anthony, eyes wide but hands steady. “He wears Simon’s favourite nail polish shade all the time, it’s blood red, the same as the one found in Jacob’s hair. He had no reason to be in my room unless he was trying to find something, unless he’d figured out who I was,” he rambled, and Anthony sat up straighter. “The lower amount isn’t because he _slept_ with Simon. He _didn’t_ sleep with him, but maybe he found out about the people who were and it was hush money over a period of time. He poses them as winners because they got what he didn’t; Simon. Simon isn’t the _killer_ , he’s been the final victim this _whole time._ He overheard Zayn fake flirting with Simon, so he took him, too. _”_

“He’s had access to the pageant for the last ten years, too,” Niall interrupted, still typing. “He’s been employed with Syco ever since he competed, and I tell ya what, he’s a doozy. He lives alone, divorced parents with a very messy breakup, a mother who used to compete in pageants. There’s a history of serious anger management problems and animal abuse on his file from when he was a kid, too. His parents used to own a slaughterhouse, but when they got divorced, it just got abandoned.”

“That’s why he’s so good with a knife, and with rope,” Liam said incredulously. “He’s done it ever since he was a kid. What’s the building now?”

Niall typed for a second with a frown. “Nothing, it’s empty.”

Liam was already standing, grabbing his keys and his gun from the chest of drawers. “Text me the address.”

“Payne.” It was Anthony, and when Liam turned around, ready for a fight, it was just to Anthony chucking a bulletproof vest at him. “At least put this on. I’ll drive. Shawn, you’ll come with us. Neal, Kirby, go to his apartment.”

As Liam threw on the vest and attached his holster to his thigh, he’d never been more sure of anything; if there was even a scratch on any part of Zayn, Alex was going to regret ever touching him. 

*****

The warehouse was 20 minutes away, in one of the industrial areas of town, but Anthony was speeding, cutting through traffic with the sirens on, and they’d probably make it there in ten. Liam tapped his fingers on his thigh, the velvet soft under his fingertips, and he had a brief thought that maybe he should’ve changed. There was no way he would’ve wasted the time though, not when Zayn was being held somewhere, most likely tied up and helpless.

His fist clenched and he stared out the window. _God_ , how had this started _and_ finished with Zayn getting hurt? There was never going to be another day that would go by without Liam telling him how much he loved him, how important he was and that he’d protect him every day he possibly could. 

Liam’s phone rang, and he answered it without looking.

“Special Agent Payne.”

 _“Liam, it’s Kirby. We’re already at his apartment around the corner and,”_ she huffed out a breath, _“it’s definitely him. There’s photos of Simon plastered all over the spare bedroom, articles and everything. There’s pictures of the victims here too, although I can’t tell where they came from.”_

“Are they alive in them?” Liam asked, glancing at Anthony when his head snapped to look at him. 

_“Yeah, they look like they were taken years ago, back when they were contestants maybe? But that’s not all. There’s audio and video on his computer desktop straight from Simon’s office. He must’ve had a bug in there. There’s what looks like conversations between Simon and the victims, and a video of you and Zayn talking to him too. It also kind of looks like he’s been hacking into Simon’s emails.”_

Liam’s head fell back against the headrest. “He knew who I was the entire time. Thanks Kirby, we’ll see you soon.” He hung up and let his head fall to the side. “He’d bugged Simon’s office. He always knew who I was.”

Anthony swore, swerving around a corner and straightening out at the last second. “We never had the upper hand.”

“He let us think we did, though.” Liam steadied himself when Anthony took another harsh turn. “He kept getting the same case updates as Simon. It’s why he tried to frame Harry and attacked Thomas. He would’ve known when we switched our plan because we had to fill Simon in on any shifts in movement so he could account for it.”

They sat in silence for a moment when Anthony switched off the siren as they got closer. 

“Liam,” Anthony started, his voice soft even as he basically crashed through a fence. “I need you in control here. I know it’s Zayn, and I know it’s personal, but you need to keep yourself in check. Otherwise he has the upper hand here too, and we can’t let him.”

Liam just nodded, trying to convince himself he could do it. Saving Zayn was more important than any kind of revenge mission, but even thinking of Zayn in any kind of danger was making him shake with anger.

“I can do this, sir. I have to do this.”

The car slowed down as Anthony pulled into a driveway and through an opened metal gate, before he put the car in park and switched it off. “I know. I just need _you_ to remember it.”

Liam nodded grimly. “I’ll remember.”

*****

It was dark but there was the faint glow of light visible through a gap in some kind of curtain, and as they crept towards the front door, Liam could feel the adrenaline kickstart. They paused at the door, pulling out and cocking their guns; Liam tested the handle, finding it unlocked, and he waited for a nod from Anthony before he slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open. 

The slaughterhouse was dusty and smelt like mold as they moved through it, Liam in front with his flashlight, Shawn in the middle and Anthony behind. It was deathly quiet, making Liam uneasy as he rounded a corner and saw a set of double doors, light pouring out from the crack underneath. They moved to either side, and as soon as Anthony nodded again, Liam pushed the door open carefully and moved as quietly as possible. 

It was unnecessary though, because Alex had clearly known they were here. It was obvious when Liam saw Zayn’s terrified eyes, a gun pointed straight at his head. 

Liam had to gather every single ounce of strength he had to keep his gun steady and not fall to his knees. 

Zayn was strung up, feet just touching the floor and arms pulled above his head. He was only wearing pants and he looked exhausted, with a gag in his mouth and a black eye. Liam’s hands trembled when he noticed the small cuts on Zayn’s chest and the nick on his cheek. He had to take a deep breath through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before letting them spring back open, because Zayn needed him to stay calm. Simon was tied to what looked like a metal operating table, pulling on his bonds, and Liam could hear muffled screams through his gag. He pushed out a breath, and tried to find the best way to handle the situation. 

“Alex, you don’t have to do this.” Classic, but effective, he hoped, gun trained directly on the spot between Alex’s eyes. “Just put the gun down, and we can have a chat, yeah?”

He was already shaking his head though, and Liam noticed the tear tracks down his face. “No, it’s too late for that. It hurts too much, I don’t _want_ it anymore!”

“Don’t want what?” Liam asked calmly as he slowly advanced, his eyes flicking to Zayn’s quickly, trying to reassure him that he was safe now, that Liam was here to keep him _safe_.

Alex was twitching, looking back at Simon every few seconds. “To be in love anymore! All it does is _hurt_ me, and he doesn’t even _care!”_ he yelled, the sound echoing in the space as he swung to point the gun at Simon’s head, standing behind the table. 

Liam saw Zayn slump, relief pouring off of him. “Alex, it’s okay. Just put the gun down and we can all - .”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to fall in love with someone, have them ignore you and then find out they’re sleeping with someone who doesn’t _deserve them_?” Alex laughed, self-deprecating and hysterical as he pushed the barrel of the gun against Simon’s temple. “He told me I had to keep it a _secret_ , that if I really loved him, I would. So I did. He even paid me too, and he’s been paying me ever since just in case. He was so good to me, you know?” Liam watched Simon struggle when Alex ran the barrel over his hairline and cheek; Anthony moving up slowly to stand beside Liam, Shawn too, but Alex seemed too caught up in staring down at Simon to notice. 

“I’m sure that’s been very difficult,” Liam said, watching carefully when Alex’s gaze snapped to his.

“It _is,_ Special Agent Payne. He swore it was only the once when I asked, but I overheard him talking about it recently on the phone, bragging to his friends about all the men he’s had,” Alex murmured, pressing the gun into Simon’s neck. “So I had to put a camera in his office, you know? To keep him _safe_ from the people who were trying to blackmail him. They were all threatening to come forward and ruin him. Those men had never deserved him to _begin_ with, and I’d been so good keeping the secret. They _couldn’t_ ruin it, I’d worked too hard.” 

There was a flash of movement behind where Alex was standing, and Liam kept his face neutral as Kirby and Neal moved into the room. He still wanted this to be as peaceful as possible, but it was becoming more unlikely by the second. “Is that how you found out we were coming?”

Alex just smiled, pleased with himself. “I knew who you were right from the start.”

“You had us fooled,” Liam admitted, taking another step forward and signalling for Neal and Kirby to stay where they were. “Why did you trick us at the church?”

“You hadn’t figured it out yet,” Alex replied simply, but his voice was cracking again. “I’d worked _so hard_ and you still hadn’t cracked it when I needed you there. Simon wasn’t listening, he wasn’t even _watching me_ , just trying to cover his own tracks, only caring about himself. I knew then that I’d never get to have him, that he deserved to be caught, that he’d _never_ cared. I wanted to ruin him the way he’s ruined me.”

“That’s why you brought us in. You wanted our help.”

Alex was shaking. “I _needed_ it, but you kept looking in the wrong places! I didn’t know what else to do, so I had to get you to arrest Harry, Simon needed to _know_ you were getting closer to finding out everything, I needed him to be terrified.”

Liam shook his head. “You didn’t need to hurt Zayn.”

“ _Yes I did._ ” It was a sudden scream, startling and unexpected, and Liam’s stomach dropped when Alex moved again, the gun pressing heavily into Zayn’s temple and making Zayn’s eyes fall shut. “And he _deserved_ it, thinking he could _flirt_ with Simon and get _away_ with it. It’s all I wanted! To be noticed, but he just ignored me, day in and day out as if he hadn’t been paying me off for years!” Alex was crying now, tears streaming down his face. “He didn’t even notice me when I killed them! I did it for _him,_ I did it all for him and he didn’t even care! You were supposed to _help_ me, agent, but instead your partner was flirting with him, _joining in_ , and Simon couldn’t get away with it this time. This time, I’m going to be remembered. He’ll remember me forever when I shoot his new boy toy right in the head.” 

It was like slow motion, watching Zayn’s eyes squeeze shut, watching Anthony dart forward and Alex’s finger move to pull the trigger.

Liam was quicker. 

He fired off a shot, clean and steady, but Alex’s gun still went off just as the bullet hit him, Liam barely noticed him dropping to the ground, could only focus on the muffled cry Zayn let out, and he sprinted across the room, heart pounding in his chest as he shoved his gun away; Shawn hot on his heels as Anthony moved to Alex and Kirby and Neal rushed to Simon. 

“Fuck, _fuck_ , Zayn.” Liam was frantic as soon as he reached him, pulling at the knots at his ankles as Shawn tried to undo the ones at his wrists. “We’ve got you, you’re gonna be okay, I promise, I’ve got you.” He undid the rope with a shout of triumph and ran his hands carefully over Zayn to check for injuries. There was a bullet wound in his arm, blood pouring down to his elbow, but thankfully Kirby was there with a tourniquet. 

“Neal’s calling an ambulance.”

The rope fell from above Zayn’s head when Shawn finally got it undone and his arms fell to Liam’s shoulders with a muffled cry as he leant back against the metal pole. Liam tried to carefully untie the gag, staring at it in frustration when his hands were shaking too much to get the knot. He refused to stop though, needed Zayn to be _safe, God_ , and as soon as it was undone, he threw it on the ground, wrapping one arm carefully around Zayn’s waist to support his weight, and cupping his face with the other. 

“Liam,” Zayn croaked, and Liam felt like crying. “You came. I didn’t know if you’d figure it out in time.”

Despite everything going on around them, Liam let out a wet laugh and stroked his cheek. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Zayn just smiled at him as his eyes fluttered closed, and Liam let a tear fall. “I love you,” Zayn murmured, resting his head on Liam’s shoulder and sighing. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you too,” Liam choked out, wrapping his other arm around Zayn and carefully holding him to his chest. “And I’ve got you. Always.”

He could hear sirens in the distance, an ambulance most likely speeding to their location, could hear Simon panting heavily to his right. He slid slowly to the floor, making sure Zayn stayed with him, and settled him in his lap as soon as they hit the ground.

Zayn buried his face in Liam’s neck straight away, and Liam felt the shaky exhale against his skin. 

“Are you okay?” It seemed like a pointless question, but he had to ask it, needed to know as he rubbed at Zayn’s bare arms that he was at least _okay._

Zayn just nudged his nose against Liam’s neck, shivering even when Liam wrapped him up tighter in his arms. “Head hurts. Where he cut me stings a little, and my arms are sore, but I’m okay. With you here, I know I’m safe.”

 _Safe_.

It was all Liam wanted, to keep Zayn safe and loved. He just tugged him closer, ignoring everything else around them, and waited for the ambulance with his lips pressed to Zayn’s temple. 

*****

Liam’s shot had hit Alex right between the eyes, and he’d died instantly. It wasn’t the first person he had ever killed, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it never got any easier. Not because it hadn’t been the right thing, or because he’d done it without thinking, but because he hated that it ever needed to come to that. 

The paramedics had wanted to take Zayn to the hospital but he’d refused, only allowing them to check the wound and stitch him up right outside the old slaughterhouse. They’d made Liam promise to look after him. 

As if Liam wasn’t going to anyway. 

He was trying to get a start on some of the paperwork while it was fresh in his mind, sitting in the conference room with Zayn napping on the couch. Anthony had tried to get them to go home but Liam had wanted to get it over with, and Zayn had refused to leave without him. 

There was a soft knock on the door, Anthony was standing there, a small smile on his face.

“Hi sir,” Liam whispered, cautious not to wake Zayn from his sleep. “Are you heading home?” 

Anthony snorted. “I wish. I just wanted to tell you that you did a brilliant job today.” 

Liam smiled, tapping his pen against the desk. “Thank you.” 

“There’s also some people who were just interviewed that are here to see you.” He raised his eyebrows and stepped aside, and Louis and Harry’s heads poked through the door instead. “Make sure you go home straight after that, and take Zayn with you.” 

He bit back a remark about how he wouldn’t just leave Zayn on the couch and grinned. “I will sir, thank you.” 

Louis pushed past Anthony, dragging Harry with him, and Anthony just left with a sigh. 

“Congratulations again, Haz, I’m really proud of you.” Liam smiled at him when they sat around the table, and Harry just scrunched his nose. “You really deserved it.” 

“Thanks Li. How’s Zayn?” Harry peered over at him on the couch. 

“He’s okay.” Liam put down his pen and stretched, leaning back in his chair. “The bullet in his arm missed anything major and the cuts on his chest will heal quickly. It’s more the mental scars I’m worried about.” Louis looked a second away from going over to him. “If you wake him up, I will end you,” Liam threatened. 

Louis raised his hands in defeat. “I won’t, I won’t. Did you get everything you needed from Alex before,” Louis paused and winced, “well, you know.”

“Not really, but it’s just like that sometimes,” Liam explained, a slight frown pulling at his lips. “Niall’s going through his computer now, but I doubt we’ll ever know if the stiletto was just a red herring or something else. I’m having second thoughts about Thomas, too.” 

“I mean, he _did_ get attacked,” Louis pointed out. 

“Yeah, but it’s hard to know if it’s because he heard through Simon’s office that we thought Thomas was the next victim and he wanted to fuck with us, or if Zayn had been right with the riddle all along.” 

“Don’t let him hear you say he might’ve been wrong.”

Liam laughed, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m not that stupid, mate.”

Louis chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Alright we’re gonna head off, we just wanted to check in and say we should all get dinner sometime next week.” 

“I’d love that.” Liam stood and hugged them, but when they went to leave, Louis paused in the doorway.

“Hey, I saw Simon in handcuffs before and I just wanted to know,” he hesitated, but Liam already knew what he wanted to ask.

“Fraud, and lying to us about not knowing the victims.” Liam raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his face. “He’ll be going away for a while.”

“Thanks mate,” Louis said quietly, a small smile on his face. “I know you didn’t do it for me, but it feels just as good all the same.” He clapped Liam on the shoulder, nodding goodbye before leading Harry down the hallway.

Liam watched them leave, hands tangled and heads close together as they made their way to the lifts. He’d wanted to see them again, to keep them in his life, and he felt warm at the fact that he’d get to. 

A yawn from behind him made him turn, and he saw Zayn stretching on the couch like a cat, rubbing at his eyes. Liam was at his side in an instant, kneeling on the ground and pushing Zayn’s fringe back from his face. 

“Hey love,” he murmured, trying to keep his voice low as Zayn blinked at him, bleary eyed. “I’ve just finished, do you want to go home?” He stroked his fingers through Zayn grey locks, smiling when he hummed. He hadn’t finished yet, but it was a tiny white lie to make sure Zayn didn’t push himself, and Anthony had told them to leave after Harry and Louis. 

“Yeah,” Zayn signed, closing his eyes again, and Liam already knew he’d be carrying him to the car. “Yours though.”

“Alright,” Liam replied softly, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Let me just grab our stuff, yeah?” 

He took a few minutes to pack up the files and lock them away, making sure he had all their possessions before he helped Zayn stand. He tried to walk them to the lift, but Zayn was too tired, was slumping in the hall, so with a sigh, Liam bent down and picked him up bridal style. 

Zayn had fallen back asleep the moment they got in the car, barely waking up even when Loki sniffed at his feet the second Liam carried him through his front door, and he only stirred after Liam had taken off their shoes and jeans and gotten into bed with him. 

“Sleep?” Zayn was exhausted, rubbing at his eyes and curling up under the duvet. 

“Yeah darling, sleep.” Liam kissed his cheek, his temple, his forehead, felt a slight pressure back from Zayn when he pecked his lips. “Love you.”

Zayn just sighed, pressing closer to Liam. “I love you, too.” 

*****

Liam could feel someone staring at him the second he woke up, and the weight on top of him didn’t feel quite like Loki usually did, was decidedly less hairy and cooler. He smiled, reached up to touch and was rewarded with the smooth skin of Zayn’s back and a soft hum of approval. 

He didn’t remember either of them losing their shirts during the night but they must’ve gotten too warm, too tangled up in each other and overheated. He reveled in it now though, keeping his eyes closed as his fingertips made random patterns on Zayn’s skin, codes that only they knew the answer to. 

Zayn was still sleep warm and Liam shifted, dragging him closer to feel their legs tangle together. Sly fingertips skated over Liam’s nipple, making him shiver as he opened his eyes. 

“Good morning.” Zayn’s chin was resting on Liam’s chest, and he looked so fond that Liam had to blink a few times to make sure he was real. “How’d you sleep?” 

Even first thing in the morning, Zayn was the most beautiful person Liam had ever seen. His beard was tickling Liam’s skin, his eyes hazy and half lidded, and he still had a pillow crease on his cheek. 

It was impossible for Liam to even fathom how he hadn’t loved Zayn more openly before now, how he’d gone a single day without telling him that he loved him so desperately, that he could feel the way Zayn loved him back, fierce and with no reservations. 

Liam smiled at him before he grabbed Zayn’s waist and carefully flipped them, landing in between Zayn’s thighs. He rested on his elbows, his fingers stroking down Zayn’s cheek and sliding into his hair. 

“I love you.” 

There was no denying the intent, he hoped, the way he’d looked right in his eyes, the gentle way he was touching him. Zayn softened instantly, pliant under Liam as he let a hand rest against his chest. 

“I love you, too.” 

It somehow felt like a tangible part of him now, like something in his body had shifted to make way for it, this overwhelming feeling of wanting Zayn in every possible way. 

He bent down to kiss him slowly, making sure Zayn could feel every flick of his tongue, every touch of his fingers against his body and every inch where they were pressed together. 

Clothes quickly became a frustrating barrier for Liam, but Zayn was the one undressing them and throwing their pants to the floor, pulling Liam back against him until they both moaned. 

He traced imaginary lines across Zayn’s skin with his tongue, sucked marks into his neck and teased his cock with his lips. He waited until Zayn was frantic, until he was gripping his hair and thrusting his hips up, before sliding a slick finger inside of him, crooking it to make him cry out.

He was _everything_ Liam had remembered him to be, hot and tight and perfect, and Liam couldn’t resist ducking down to tease Zayn’s rim with his tongue. He was so responsive, had Liam moaning against where his finger was buried inside him, had him holding down Zayn’s hips with one hand to keep him still, sliding another one, two fingers inside of him as he nipped at his thighs.

By the time he slowly pushed inside, holding Zayn’s thigh around his hip; felt the incredible heat and overwhelming tightness around his cock, he knew he wouldn’t last long, and he started moving in slow, hard thrusts that had Zayn begging for more. 

The experience was everything. He got to see the beautiful face Zayn made when he came, got to hear Zayn whisper how much he loved him until he came hard, more intense than he’d ever remembered, exchanging words of love and want. 

It was easy to forget the outside world here in their little bubble, wrapped up in each other, and they let themselves get lost in it over and over again until Liam could hardly breathe. 

He knew that they needed to go into work later today to finish up the case.

He knew that everyone would have a million questions.

He knew that in the next couple of days they’d get another case, something that might put either of them in danger again.

But all of that was irrelevant right now because Zayn was everything good, everything right, all that Liam needed and that he hadn’t known he’d been missing, wrapped up in Liam’s arms and trying to catch his breath. 

Because Zayn was _everything_.

Liam kissed Zayn’s forehead, pulled him closer and let sleep take them again.

They were everything together, had each other’s backs.

Always. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, it means more to me than I could possibly say!  
> Comments and kudos make me happy, and I'd love to hear what you thought of it.  
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](https://lightwoodsmagic.tumblr.com/)!  
> I’d also love it if you reblogged [this fic post!](%E2%80%9C)


End file.
